


Fake It 'Till You Make It

by johnllauren



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety, Death, Depression, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Build, Torture, fake dating au, just assume everyone in this is gay, modern day AU, this is such a happy story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 49
Words: 59,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens are in a bit of a… tricky situation. A tricky situation in which they are kissing now, in the middle of a bar, even though they’re just friends. That’s all they are. They’re just friends.</p><p>Until their little mishap ends up all over the news. That’s when things go to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One  
Now, nobody exactly knows how it happened. It’s one of those things that just… happens.

Perhaps the participants were already too drunk – actually, that’s not a perhaps – to remember exactly how everything went down. Perhaps nobody really cared enough to pay attention. Or perhaps it just happened too quickly for anybody to say or do anything.

However, the sturdiest explanation is as follows: it was a Friday. Regardless of the fact that they had work tomorrow anyway, Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan went out to one of the local bars. Their plan to “have a few drinks and then go home early” was thrown out the window three beers ago. 

Alexander is in the middle of one of his drunk rants again (it’s either about the debt plan, neutrality with France, or how necessary the tax on whiskey is – John zoned out a half hour ago) while he downs another shot. John is nodding absentmindedly, watching Lafayette and Mulligan out of the corner of his eye. He thinks they’re in the middle of a drinking competition or something. 

That’s when Alexander sees her. Elizabeth Schuyler. His ex, from one of his particularly messy breakups.

“Kiss me.” Alex blurts suddenly. 

John is bolted out of his daydream at Alex’s words. Or maybe he’s still in the daydream; there is no way Alexander would say something like that, except for in John’s dreams. “What?” He manages.

“John, _kiss me_.” Alexander says, clearer this time. John seems to be pinching himself. “Oh my god, come here.” Alex says, leaning off the bar stool to pull John closer and connect their lips.

It takes John a second to come to terms with what’s happening. Alexander is trying to press their lips together, but in his sloppy drunkness, fear, and general smallness, he isn’t doing a very good job. He tastes like whiskey. He’s trying to say something, but apparently multitasking is too much in this state of his. 

Then John reacts. He kisses back, traces a hand around Alexander’s neck to pull them closer, and sturdies his friend. It’s hectic and Alex is completely clueless but that’s okay because soon enough John has him pressed to his chest and they’re still kissing and – oh shit, he thinks they’re on the floor – and Alex is making these adorable little noises. It doesn’t take him too long to realize that yes, this is exactly what he wants, and neither of them have a clue what happened next.

 

When John wakes up, he’s lying in a bed that is not unfamiliar, yet not his. It takes him a while to realize the room is Alexander’s and that he’s lying in Alexander’s bed. Upon further inspection, Alexander is lying next to him and – fuck – neither of them are clothed. He has a terrible headache, most likely caused by a wicked hangover.

He has absolutely no idea what happened last night, but he knows it wasn’t good in the slightest. 

John decides not to wake Alexander. If he has a hangover this bad, he can’t imagine what Alex is going to be facing. Aside from the fact that Alex is at least half a foot shorter than him, he also has an extremely small, delicate build – not that John _notices_ these things, they’re just apparent – which means he’s terrible at holding his liquor. Besides, how the hell are they supposed to go about this? They’ve been best friends for years – ever since Alex came to America – and they just banged. Yikes. 

However, the solitude is short lived. 

Alex wakes about five minutes after John. He yawns, then groans, then rubs his temple and frowns. John places a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Sorry.” John says.

Alexander blinks in surprise. “Wait – you – John – what?” he says eloquently. 

John sighs. “We’re in a bit of a – ah, a predicament here.” He says.

Alex nods. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at John with big, wide eyes. 

“I, uh, don’t know how much of last night you remember, but I don’t remember anything after we, uh, kissed.” John says gently. 

He receives a nod in response. Alexander must be in the same boat as him, then. 

“What are we going to do?”

“I have no clue.” Alex whispers. His voice is hoarse, betraying the pain of his crushing headache, and he sounds _scared_. It takes John off guard. Alexander has always been so powerful and so great and has always known what to say and what to do. Even John, Alex’s best friend, has hardly ever seen him be anything other than composed.

“Should we just keep it secret?” John asks. “I mean, we can’t share it publicly, that wouldn’t go over well at all. Besides, we’re still just friends, right? I mean, I think of you as my best friend, and I don’t want that to change.” 

“Yeah.” Alexander wholeheartedly agrees, but he wonders why John’s remark makes him so upset.

John mulls over things. “Unless we’ve said anything to anyone else, Lafayette and Mulligan are the only two who know – and that’s assuming that they were sober enough to realize what was going on.”

“Let me get my phone.” Alexander says, his voice more assured and steady now. That’s the Alexander everybody knows. Always calculating, thinking ahead.

John nods and watches as Alexander walks up to his desk to retrieve the phone. He picks up the phone carefully, his fingers curling around it too cautiously. “What’s wrong?” John inquires, sitting up.

Alex doesn’t say anything in the beginning, just unlocks his phone and flicks through some notifications. “Our plan to not to tell anyone? _That_ just went out the window.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the whole world already knows.”

“ _What_?” 

Alexander scrolls for a while, reads something, then stops. “There’s a _CNN_ article about us. Someone at the bar was a reporter, and they got a picture of us devouring each other’s faces. Oh, says here they interviewed Lafayette and Mulligan about it. Apparently, Lafayette was already so drunk that he only spoke French, so they were left with Mulligan.” 

“This should be fun.” 

“‘It’s about time they got together. Eight goddamn years of sexual tension, damn. Hammy’s gonna be gettin’ some tonight!’” He quotes, sighing. 

John retrieves his phone from its place next to Alexander’s. “Oh my god, we’re trending on twitter. Worldwide.”

“How are we trending? Hashtag John-Laurens-and-Alexander-Hamilton?” 

“No, you inept swine. They combined our names. Apparently, we’re Lams.”

“Wait, Lams? How come you get to be first?” Alex asks, obviously peeved.

John rolls his eyes sarcastically. “Because the top goes first, and we both know that’s what I am.”

Alexander opens his mouth to shoot something back, then shuts it. “Okay, fine. But how did the internet know that? Mulligan didn’t say anything about that.”

“Because I’m more than eight inches taller than you, probably twice your size, and you’re delicate, like a flower. Or a butterfly.” John responds.

Alex rolls his eyes. He considers shooting something back, but decides against it. His phone starts ringing.

“Who is it? If it’s Mulligan, tell him I’m going to punch him in the face as soon as I see him.” 

“Its… shit, it’s Washington.” 

John sits up abruptly. “Like, _President_ Washington?”

“Yes, of course it’s President Washington! How many other Washingtons do we know?” Alexander asks, rolling his eyes. He answers the phone. John isn’t sure, but he thinks Alex’s hands are shaking.

“Good morning, sir. What’s the matter, sir? Me and – me and Laurens?” Alexander looks up from his phone and covers it with his hand. “What do I tell him?” He whispers.

“Go with it,” John insists, not having the time to explain why.

Alex wants to go over their options, but there’s no time. He has to answer Washington. “We’re in love, sir. Eight years. Yes, sir. We’ll see you soon. Goodbye, sir.” He hangs up the phone.

“What’d he say?” John asks.

“He wasn’t happy. Immediately wanted know what the deal with us was. He… wants to meet us in the Cabinet Room as soon as possible.” Alexander says, fixing his hair. “Come on, we have to go.” 

John coughs. “Uh, Alexander, you might want to get dressed first.”

“Right.” Without pausing, Alex heads right over to his tiny dresser. “Wait, why are we going with this dating thing anyway?”

“Because. One, denial just leads to more rumors. Two, we’re both openly queer men with very important places in the government and there are so many young people who look up to us because we’re like them. An open relationship like this? Alexander, it could impact the entire world. Think of all the people we’re influencing.” John points out.

Alex raises an eyebrow. Okay, John has a strong argument there. But fake dating his best friend?

“Plus, it would piss off millions of Republicans.” He pauses. “ _Including_ Jefferson.”

“You got me there.” Alexander mumbles under his breath. 

“How long have we been dating, again?” 

“I told Washington eight years.” 

“We are in _such deep shit_.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurens and Hamilton attend a cabinet meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little more about this au - it's modern, of course, and Laurens the Senator of South Carolina because why not, also Jefferson just got back from being the ambassador to France

Chapter Two

It takes a half hour for Alexander and John to get their shit together and walk from Alexander’s tiny studio apartment to the Cabinet Room. They hardly speak, yet seem to do everything in synch, from the way they walk to the way they both instinctively walk into the coffee shop.

The thought of being noticed doesn’t even cross their minds. Usually, nobody bats an eyelash at their sight. Politicians, especially secretaries and senators, really aren’t celebrities. But that was before… everything that happened last night.

“Aren’t you Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens?” Yet another young girl asks, walking right up to them. It hasn’t been five minutes since they left Alex’s apartment.

They’re only recognized four times on the way to the White House, but it’s enough for them to realize the magnitude of their screwup. Alexander would be surprised if there was one singular person in this country that doesn’t know about them being together.

When they arrive at the Cabinet Room, very few people are inside. A few groups of senators are talking in hushed tones. Most of them stop as soon as Alexander and John enter the room. Washington, sitting at his place in the front of the room, looks up from his position with his head in his hands. Alexander swallows hard.

“Hey,” John whispers, “it’ll be fine.” 

Washington has always been like a father figure to Alexander, everybody knows that. Having Washington’s approval is extremely important to him. The president must be thoroughly pissed about their situation if Alex is so nervous. 

John reaches for Alex’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Alexander looks up, startled by the sudden touch and confused at why John would do that. “Fake dating, remember?” 

“Hamilton. Laurens.” 

“Sir.”

“Can I ask what _in the world_ possessed you to, er, make out in the middle of a public bar with reporters in it?” Washington inquires, sounding very much like he is about to lose his cool.

Alex fumbles with his other hand, trying to come up with an explanation. John speaks for him. “We were unaware, sir. The reporters were hidden, we were drunk, and it’s hard to remember that we have to keep everything hushed up when it’s been eight years.” He says delicately.

“So, you really are dating, then?” 

“Yes, sir.” John answers. Alexander nods, looking down. 

“Is it too late for me to disapprove of both of your boyfriends?” Washington asks.

“Unfortunately, sir.” 

Washington sighs. “Remind me to never send the both of you to Vegas on business.” 

“Duly noted.” 

Alexander looks up then, tightening his grip on John’s hand. “What are we going to do about this, sir?” His voice is almost as scared as it was that morning.

His tone visibly shakes Washington. It’s funny how that happens, how sometimes people forget that Alexander Hamilton doesn’t always have that sturdy voice he uses when he gets into arguments. It makes Washington want to act more fatherly towards Alexander, but he catches himself.

“I’ll have to make an address.” He decides. 

“About us?” Alex asks, obviously implying the ‘what are you going to say about us?’ part.

Washington nods. “About how I support the two of you in your relationship.” 

If Alexander isn’t the picture of relief in that moment, John doesn’t know what is.

“Would you mind drafting it?” 

“Of course I will, sir.” Alex finally relaxes. If you could ever call him relaxed.

John smiles at him, and Alex returns the gesture. If John didn’t know any better, he would think Alex does a damn good job of looking like a lovesick fool. But of course, they’re only acting. 

“Just, one more thing.” Washington adds.

Alex and John look at him expectantly. 

“ _Please_ don’t kiss in front of me. Unless I’ve had at least two beers.” 

John laughs lightly, assuming Washington is joking, but the president seems dead serious. 

Alexander is about to say something, but the door to the Cabinet Room swings open ceremoniously. And… 

The insufferable, pretentious, imbecilic, horsefucking, vomit-inducing, shitspawn, Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson, walks into the room. Alexander is already coming up with insults to hurl at him (see above) but John grasps his arm, steeling him.

“Can you please behave, even if it’s just this once? We’re already in a fuckton of trouble.” John whispers.

“…ancient, righteous, stuck-up, ignorant, coward, asswiping, conniving, _twa_ -”

“ _Alexander_.”

Alexander pouts. “Okay, okay, fine.” 

Jefferson practically trots in (that little egotistical asshole) as he looks around at everyone in the room, finally directing his gaze to the president. “So,” he asks, “what’d I miss?”

He walks over to where James Madison sits and takes a seat next to him. “How’s good old Virginia been?” 

“Virginia has been fine. This cabinet, though, that’s a different story…” Madison trails off. He never was one for words. 

“I liked him better when he was in France shoving baguettes up his ass.” Alex hisses in John’s ear.

John pats Alex’s arm awkwardly and directs him to a seat. “Come on, just a little bit of being diplomatic with Jefferson, and then we can leave.” 

“How’ve things been, Mr. President?” Jefferson asks. Washington looks up from his papers briefly. 

“Hamilton, why don’t you explain? I have press meetings to schedule.” He leaves out the _because of you_ part, but it’s implied.

Jefferson folds his hands on the table and looks at Alex. “What _did_ you do this time?” 

“Less like what he’s done this time, more like who he’s been doing for the past eight years, amiright?” Someone yells out from the other side of the room. John shoots them a glare.

“A scandal? Oh, pray tell.” 

If looks could kill, Jefferson would be dead fifteen times over.

“I’ve been in love with Laurens for eight years. And we are very happy together.” Alex says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” 

“Alexander, if you get into another fight with Jefferson, I am going to dump you.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Alexander and John move in together. For the act.

Chapter Three

By some miracle, John makes it out of the Cabinet Room with an Alexander who has not gotten into a fight with anyone. 

“What are we going to do now?” John asks.

Alex looks at him, confused. “What we normally do. I have some speeches to write – for Washington and for us – and don’t you have some senator stuff to take care of at your apartment?”

“No, I mean – I mean, the world just discovered that we’ve been dating for eight years. We can’t just go our separate ways, you know? We have to make it convincing.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“We have to act all couple-ish. You know, living together, making group appearances-”

Alexander cuts him off. “Did you say ‘living together’?” 

“Did I fucking stutter?” John asks sarcastically. “Yes, you should probably move in with me. Or at least live with me for the time being.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Why am I going to your apartment?”

“Because you have a tiny little studio apartment and I have a big, spacious one.”

“But-”

“Oh, come on, it’s not going to kill you. You can take all your furniture – do you even own anything beside a desk – and your things. It’ll be fine. Besides, the act?”

Despite Alexander’s vehement protests, his belongings are packed into a tiny little suitcase two hours later. John and Alex have worked together to pack him up, and it really hasn’t taken long at all. 

John decides not to remark on Alex’s lack of possessions, since he knows Alex isn’t the best-off person and hates talking about his past.

He also avoids mentioning all the letters and bills on Alex’s table threatening to turn off the heat and electricity if they aren’t paid (John knows Alex gets them almost every month, and that may or may not be another reason John wants him to move in). 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes, I’m positive. Now come on, the sooner we get your stuff into my apartment, the sooner you can get back to work on that speech you adore so much.” 

And, sure enough, Alex does just that. They get the desk into the apartment with difficulty, only thinking to half-dismantle it and then proceeding to walk it halfway across D.C. to get to John’s apartment, but the job is done nonetheless. John sets the desk up while Alex places his suitcase by the wall and digs in it, surfacing with a few notebooks, a fuckton of pens, and his laptop.

He mutters a ‘thank-you’ and gets to work. John has a feeling it isn’t just for setting up the desk.

John decides to take some time to actually look at his phone. He has over one hundred messages from Mulligan and Lafayette. Alex probably has the same. He’s going to have to call them now, isn’t he?

 

“Hey, Laf. Yes, Alex and I are dating. Yes, eight years. Because we didn’t tell you! Oh please, don’t act so upset. Wait – why were you making bets with people about our relationship status? I don’t even want to know. What? Washington? How did you get the president in on this? Connections? I’ll give you _connections_! What did he bet on, anyway? If you don’t tell me right now, I swear to god – oh my god, he thought Alex was in love with me? Jesus, I need a drink.” 

“Herc? It’s John. Alex and I have been dating for eight years. There, I said it. It’s old news, anyway. And also, I’ll have you know that the next time I see you, I’m going to punch your lights out. Bullshit, it ‘wasn’t your fault’! You told the media we’re dating! Yes, we were the ones kissing, but still! Also, why in the world didn’t you tell us that our entire friend group and the majority of America’s government has bet on our relationship? I’m going to kill both you and Lafayette, dear god.” 

 

One hour after Alex started working, John isn’t very concerned. He’s known Alex since college, he knows how Alex gets when he writes. He can write for hours and hours without interruption. But Alex told him that he kicked that habit years ago. Surely he’s going to stop soon to eat or something. It’s already dinnertime.

Two hours after Alex started working, John is beginning to get a tad concerned. He’s offered Alex food multiple times, only to be turned down because he’s ‘almost done.’ John decides to let it go on until it’s time to go to bed, then he’ll make Alex stop and at least have a bowl of cereal and sleep. 

Five hours after Alex started working, and it’s already almost midnight. John is fighting sleep himself, but he resolves to stay awake until he can get Alex to sleep. 

“Alex, you need sleep.” He says. 

“I’m almost done.” Alex says, continuing to type as he writes. “I finished Washington’s address to the nation, and I’m working on our address to some newscaster – don’t give me that look, we have to say something – I only have a little bit left on that, and then I have some normal work to do, just some debt plan stuff, and then I can stop.”

John sighs. “No, Alex, come on. It’s already midnight. You can stop for eight hours to sleep.”

“I slept last night. I’ll be fine.”

“Alexander, I thought you had gone back to normal sleep patterns.”

“I have!”

“Not counting last night, when was the last time you got more than four hours of sleep at one sitting?”

“One sitting? Uh, Tuesday? Yeah, Tuesday.” 

“ _Tuesday_? Come on, you need sleep.”

Alexander shakes his head. 

John walks over to his laptop and presses save on all the word documents he has open. He closes the laptop, making sure not to mess up any of Alex’s meticulous tabs. He ignores Alex’s various cries of protest. John then proceeds to lift Alexander out of his desk chair and carries him over to the bed. Damn, Alex is so light, he needs to eat more. 

“I only have one bed, but I mean, we can, uh, stay on opposite sides?” John proposes. Alex nods, already tired. 

John sets Alex down on the bed, and Alex looks like he can fall asleep right there. He scrambles up to rest his head on a pillow and pull a blanket up over his body. If John didn’t know any better, he would’ve called Alexander cute. But he doesn’t. Because they’re not actually dating.

“Goodnight, Alex.” John whispers once he’s gotten into the bed (on the far left side, making sure to leave plenty of room between them). 

“’Night,” Alex mumbles, almost asleep. 

While John lays down in his bed waiting for sleep to come, he definitely doesn’t watch Alexander sleep. And he definitely doesn’t note how different Alex looks when he’s finally allowed himself to relax, how young and vulnerable he looks. He definitely doesn’t think about how small Alex is, how he barely reaches the 5’7” mark, and how much smaller he looks in sleep. But John most definitely, under no circumstances, thinks about how it would feel to have Alex’s gentle, delicate frame pressed up against him or how it would feel to wrap his arms around Alex and hold him and kiss him while they slept.

He most certainly thinks about all those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

When John wakes up, Alexander is already hard at work. He can hear the never-ending clack-clack-clack of the keyboard while he writes. A mile a minute, that man.

“Good morning, Alex,” John greets, yawning.

“’Morning.” Alex sounds distracted.

“When did you wake up?”

“Like… three hours ago?”

“Have you eaten breakfast?”

No response. Alex is very bad at lying to John, so he just decides to say nothing and get back to work on whatever it is he’s typing.

“I’m going to make breakfast, and you’re going to eat something, hear me?”

Alex just nods. 

John shakes his head and walks into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Alex stumbles in behind him. He’s already halfway to pancake batter by the time Alex lazily sits down on a chair. “What are you making?” He inquires.

“Pancakes,” John declares, willing himself to keep concentrating on the batter he stirs in his hands. “Have you spoken to Mulligan and Lafayette yet?”

“Not yet.” Alex yawns, “Woke up and went right to the computer. By the way, we have to be at the White House in two hours to film a video for their YouTube announcing our relationship, and then we have an interview with CNN a half hour after that. Don’t worry, though, I have everything planned out as far as what we have to say. I also drafted something about our history, so I had to take some liberties with that, but it should be fine, just in case anyone asks-”

Perhaps he carries on and perhaps he doesn’t, John isn’t sure. He’s too busy flipping the pancake currently in the pan and concentrating on not thinking about what he thought about last night. Five minutes later, though, the pancakes are done and he’s carrying plates to the table, where Alexander sits, tapping his leg on the wooden flooring. 

“I spoke to them – Herc and Laf – yesterday. It turns out they had this whole network of people that were placing bets on our relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

“People bet _actual money_ on whether or not we were dating. It started out with Lafayette betting Mulligan fifty bucks that we were dating, and then even more people joined in. _Washington_ bet an amount of money that Lafayette refused to disclose that you were hopelessly in love with me and I was just oblivious. Dolley Madison bet one hundred that you and Jefferson have been dating in secret. Which is totally false because, one, you hate Jefferson with such a fiery passion that even hatesex wouldn’t make up for it, and two, Madison and Jefferson have been in love for years.” John explains. 

Alex sputters. “What? Washington bet on us, too?”

John nods. “We’re going to have to grill them about this later.” 

Alex agrees. “We have to go over the script for our announcement.” He says, pushing the rest of the pancakes on his plate away from him. “Come on, we have to get ready.”

“No way.” John replies, looking at Alex’s plate. “The only thing you’ve eaten in the last 24 hours was an expresso. You’re going to finish your pancakes before we do anything else.” 

Alex looks like he’s about to make a retort, but he looks at John’s face and thinks about how hungry he is. Then he shuts up and eats his pancakes. 

 

“What exactly are we going to say to the public?” John asks, once they’re both clad in official-looking suits. 

Alex hands him a stack of papers. “I typed everything up. That’s the whole address.”

“How many pages is this?” 

“Twenty-three. I already narrowed it down by four pages.” Alex responds.

“Twenty-three pages?” John repeats, incredulous. “We can’t read that whole thing!”

“We can and we will.” Alex sounds dead-set. 

John shakes his head. “We need it to be, like, a page. It’ll take us over a half hour to read this whole thing.”

“I’ve already edited and revised it. Every single word, every phrase, every punctuation mark, is absolutely necessary. This is as short as it gets.”

“How much are we saying? Only that we’re dating. That’s not much at all, maybe one paragraph.” 

Alex looks down at the speech. “I also included remarks about LGBT rights and youth.” 

John knows how important that is to the both of them – especially after this whole shitfest – so he doesn’t tell Alex to cut it out. “Two paragraphs, then.”

Alexander rolls his eyes. “I already wrote up this whole thing!”

“If we don’t narrow it down now, Washington’s publicists will narrow it down for you.” John points out. (It’s happened before. Alex was blinded by rage for at least a month each time.) 

Alex shudders. “Okay, okay, fine. You got me there.”

He narrows it down to a page and a half (with John’s help). The whole thing turns out to be two very wordy paragraphs, but they’re strong and have all of Alex’s original points. John knows that, once they get to the White House, Alexander will try his hardest to record them saying the original twenty-three page speech. But that never works. Even Washington doesn’t make speeches that long (unless there is a very, _very_ pressing issue that needs to be addressed). 

Sure enough, he does just that. Alex even goes as far as to talk to Washington about it, though that’s something that happens regularly. Washington tells him that there is no way they can read the whole twenty-three pages, and it would be better to just stick with the two paragraphs. Alexander reluctantly obeys. 

Alex pulls John aside right before they begin filming. “What’s wrong?” John asks.

“We have to play this up. For the cameras, you know. So we have to act in love while they film.” Alexander explains, even though John already knew this. “Like acting. A few lovesick glances, if you will.”

“Yes, yes, Alex, I know.” John says, laughing. “Everything is going to be fine.”

He nods. “And even when the cameras aren’t rolling, they’re still trained on us.” 

“What do you mean?”

Alexander stands on his tiptoes and kisses John quickly. John is startled by it, by the sudden contact, and he’s once again reminded of how wonderful it feels to kiss Alex. It’s like he’s in a world of his own and his only thought is why are they fake dating, why are they fake dating when they can be real dating, especially when kissing Alexander is so wonderful, and yes, yes, he wants this. But then the cameras start flashing on them in every angle, different newscasters getting footage of them, probably for a headline image. And then Alex pulls away, just as fast as he kissed John.

It takes John a few seconds to recover. “What was that for?”

“The cameras, of course.” Alexander offers in explanation. John wonders if it’s wishful thinking or if Alex actually sounded like he was lying.

The whole ordeal only takes one take. John delivers the first paragraph, the one about them being in love. Alex glances at him a few times while he reads, doing a very good job of looking in love. Then John finishes speaking and they pause while John fixes Alex’s ponytail. Alex laughs, and begins the second paragraph about LGBT rights. He sounds so impassioned, like he always does when he speaks publicly about a topic he’s passionate about. John wonders if the way he looks at Alex is faked at all. Towards the last few sentences, their fingers intertwine. No doubt the cameras get that on tape. 

“That… that actually wasn’t so bad.” John says, once all the cameras have gone and they’re alone – or, as alone as two people can be in the White House.

“See? It was fine. And now we’ve got to go, we have an interview to film.”

“Are we ever finished working?” John asks, but he already knows the answer. Alexander Hamilton never stops, and now he’s gotten himself roped into being by Alex’s side all the time. Not that he really minds. 

Alex shakes his head. “Of course not. After this, I have some debt plan stuff to work on and, oh shit, the Cabinet Meeting with Jefferson about the debt plan is in ten days, oh shit, shit, shit…” 

“Hey.” John interrupts. “It’ll be fine. You already have the main points of your argument fleshed out, don’t you? You only need to work on the details, and you have a whole ten days to do that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

John always did have a calming effect on Alex. He was there to simplify things, something Alex never did. Alex always focused on the big pictures, the huge, daunting tasks that he had to complete. John was there to tell him that it really wasn’t much, all he needed to do was write down some details and he would be fine. Not that it really _meant_ anything. John was just… looking out for his friend. 

They don’t say much more until the interview is about to begin. And then it’s game faces on, and by “game faces” they mean smitten, lovesick faces. They answer the questions to the best of their ability, using the fake history they went over earlier. 

Yes, they’re dating. (“For eight years!” Alexander exclaims happily.)

A shameless plug for the White House YouTube channel, where you can find their announcement. (“And updates from the president himself. But we all know you only watch it to see how good looking our treasury secretary is.” John says, laughing when Alex shoves him lightly on the shoulder).

A brief story about how they met. (“We were college roommates for four years. It’s kind of hard to not befriend someone after that, and when we got to talking… well, it’s kind of hard not to fall in love with this guy.” John wonders if Alex’s blush is real or not). 

What was going through their mind when they found out the whole world knew they were dating. (“Well, it was scary at first.” John admits, thinking back to how afraid Alex was yesterday morning. “We had no idea what to do, since we’ve been hiding it for years. But then we realized that it feels good that we aren’t keeping it a secret. It’s nice to be able to show the entire world how much I love my wonderful boyfriend.”)

Alex continues the interview with remarks about LGBT rights and youth, just like the announcement video. He gets into the same excited mood he always gets into when explaining something political, using wild hand gestures. He talks for a while, probably getting in everything he had to cut out of the announcement.

The interview asks if they have any concluding words, and they haven’t planned anything, so Alexander is about to say no. But John nods and says there’s something he wants to say. Alex sends him a small quizzical look, but John sends one back telling him to just go with it. 

“I’d just like to end this with a few words to any young queer folk out there. We were like you once. It’s okay to be any sexuality, no matter what people tell you. If you’re in a tricky situation, just hold on, okay? Everything will be fine. There is a place for you in the world. And if you think I’m being cliché and these are empty promises, just look at me. My father kicked me out of my house for being gay, and now here I am – Senator of New York, in the president’s cabinet, and dating the Secretary of the Treasury.” John says, unable to stifle the grin that takes over his face.

Alexander smiles at him as the interviewer signs off. The cameras shut off – or, at least, they stop recording. “That ending was good.”

“I thought it was an important message to get out.”

If there was one thing Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens bonded over when they first met, it was their political views. Alex nods. “Smart. And thoughtful.” He says, as they begin to head back to John’s – their? – apartment. 

After a pause, Alex speaks again. “Do you ever think about it? Your childhood?”

“I mean, I used to, but not anymore. My father’s an asshole, and I’ve known that forever, so there’s really no sense in dwelling on it, you know?” John shakes his head, clearing it. “Do you?”

Alexander falters. 

“I know we aren’t actually dating.” John says, “But I think things would be much easier if we were open with each other. What I mean to say is that you can tell me the truth, Alex.”

Alex looks at his hands, like he’s fumbling for an answer. “I try not to. I really do try, but it’s hard? Most of the time I’m fine, but sometimes… I don’t know.” He picks up his pace, making John have to speed up even despite their height difference. John takes the hint and drops the subject.

“Before you get right to debt plan work, can you eat something?” He asks once they’re in the apartment. 

Alexander sends John a _look_ , but John doesn’t stand for it and makes him eat a sandwich anyway. Then Alex sits on the couch and starts typing furiously in a word document while John sits in the big, comfy chair and reads the comments on their YouTube announcement (even though he knows he shouldn’t and they only annoy him). As he glances at Alexander, John can’t help but think about how much it seems like they actually are a real couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in no way is this accurate as far as how the white house youtube works or how interviews work lmao


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is shit, things start going to shit, and John really needs a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight trigger warning for homophobia in this chapter.

Chapter Five

After about a week, things begin to die down. Several news stations report about Alexander and John. President Washington makes an address supporting them, just like he promised. Some people are ecstatic. Others – the conservatives – are pissed beyond belief, but it’s nothing huge. Nothing an address can’t fix. 

Alexander and John start to get used to being together constantly. They’re good friends anyway, so it isn’t exactly hard. They don’t have to kiss for the press again yet, something John both resents and is grateful for at the same time. John works hard to get Alex back into normal sleep and eating schedules, but it’s getting harder. 

Alex goes back to working at his office the day after their interview, and after that John doesn’t see much of him. He stays the night there twice, most likely not sleeping at all. It’s the second week of December, meaning he has to start on end of year work almost as soon as the debt plan debate ends, and after that he has to work on how the debt plan is going to be enacted. His duty never stops.

John is currently out food shopping. Alex is actually at home, claiming he can get some work done on his laptop today. There’s only three days until the debate. John glances at his watch as he stands in line for the butcher. It’s already six. The lines take forever on Sundays, and he’s beginning to consider just leaving the line altogether, since all they need is a half-pound of cold cuts. Then his phone rings. Alex.

“Hello?” John answers. 

The line is silent for a second. “Can you – can you come home?” Alex asks, sounding a bit scared.

“Alex? What’s wrong?” He’s already out of the line, already leaving the cart in a random aisle and heading towards the exit.

“Jefferson.” Alex manages. 

“I’ll be there soon, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. Do you want me to stay on the phone?” John speaks slowly and calmly. He doesn’t know what the fuck Jefferson did this time, but he knows that he has to focus Alex before anything can get done.

Alex considers the offer. “No. No, it’s okay, I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up, but it’s too abrupt. John knows something is wrong. 

John is left to wonder what Jefferson did that could be so terrible that Alex had to call him and ask him to come home. He practically runs to the apartment, and almost calls Alex three times. By the time he makes it to the door, he’s planned three different ways to kill Jefferson and make it look like an accident.

“Alex?” He calls out as he enters the apartment, only to find Alexander pacing angrily in the living room.

So his panic has boiled down to anger, then. Alexander paces around the room like there’s no tomorrow, each foot slamming down on the carpeted floor and making a soft thump sound. His eyebrows are furrowed and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. His lips are moving – probably forming a plan or an address – and yet no sound comes out of them.

“Alex?” John asks again.

That time, Alexander looks up. “You will not believe what Jefferson did.”

John sighs. “What group was he talking trash about this time?” 

“Us.” Alex says uncertainly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he made a whole big speech about how horrible and how America doesn’t want ‘homosexuals’ running the country. And of course he had to say that we don’t want a homosexual devising a debt plan to run a country. I don’t remember all of it, but there was a lot about the ‘gay agenda’ – honestly, who even talks about the gay agenda anymore – and he kept repeating things about the debt plan, always the debt plan, why would we want a gay making our debt plan, and it just went on and on and on. I thought everything would be fine! I didn’t – I didn’t think Jefferson would stoop to such low a level just to stop me from passing the debt plan.” Alexander continues to pace while he talks.

“Shh. Alexander, shh. Everything’s going to be fine. Yes, Jefferson is a dick, but we knew that already. I’m sure nobody’s going to listen to him, anyway.” John assures him.

Alex looks at John quizzically, but still doesn’t stop pacing. “Nobody’s going to listen? He has the majority of conservatives at his beck and call! Anything he says, they’ll listen to. Besides, despite whatever strides we’ve made, there’s still millions of homophobes in this country. I’m sure they’re all way too happy to make Jefferson the person who deals with all of our debt.” 

“And I’m sure the millions of young liberals will back us. Besides, it’s a cabinet thing, not something that will actually be voted on. Just calm down, and we can get Jefferson back later.”

Alexander “does not have a bone of chill in his body” Hamilton most certainly does not calm down. “We have to do something, I have to get the votes back, he just probably swayed everyone in the cabinet who isn’t completely liberal. What if I don’t get the votes, this is what I’ve been working on for my entire term as treasury secretary, oh my god.”

John walks up to Alex from behind and wraps his arms around the smaller man to keep him from pacing. “Alexander. Sit down on the couch. Everything is going to be fine. How about we just watch some television and relax?”

“But there’s so much left to do!” Alex protests.

“Alexander.”

“Fine.” 

John sits down on the couch and beckons for Alex to join him. Alex obliges and sits on the opposite end of the couch. John ignores how he’s weirdly upset by that. He takes the remote and turns on the television.

“Alex,” he says as a prerequisite, “you’re my best friend, but if you make one more ‘Netflix and chill’ joke, I will not hesitate to kick you in the shin.” 

Alex laughs. “That’s fine. We can always Amazon Prime and sexy ti-”

John cuts him off with a laugh. “Don’t you dare.”

The movie is uneventful, just something they saw on Netflix that looked like it would be worth watching. Alex ends up shifting from his position and leaning on John at some point during the movie. He rests his head on John’s shoulder and suddenly their bodies are touching and that’s when John stops paying attention to the movie and instead pays attention to how close he is to Alex.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, laughing.

“’M cold.” Alex whines. Always cold, he is. 

John smiles. “Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

Alex nods. “But don’t move. Cause you’re warm.”

John reaches around on the couch blindly until he finds a blanket. He hands it to Alex, who wraps it around the two of them. And then John pretends he isn’t internally screaming for the rest of the movie. 

After the movie finishes, Alex checks his watch. “Oh, shit, I gotta go.” He says, standing.

“Why?”

“I have some stuff I need to finish up at the office.” Alex says.

“I thought you said you didn’t have to go in today?”

Alex is already pulling on his coat. “I didn’t, until I realized there was something I had to take care of, and I thought I could do it later, but I just realized it’s late already and shit, basically.”

He’s right. It’s already almost nine. 

“Okay. Just. Come home to sleep, okay? Don’t stay up all night.” John says, though he doubts Alex will listen to him.

Alex nods. “Okay.” And with that, he’s out the door.

John is left alone, sitting on the couch. He tries not to think about Alex and how close they were just minutes ago and, of course, fails miserably.

If there’s one thing he needs, it’s a drink. 

He knows that it might be irresponsible after what happened last time he went out for a drink, but he technically didn’t do anything last time. Alex was the one who kissed him and Mulligan was the one who spilled the beans. So going out for just _one_ pint with Lafayette wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Lafayette answers on the second ring. “Salut?”

“Laf, how fast can you be over here? I really need a drink.” 

 

It turns out Lafayette can be there in eight minutes. He texts John that his car is in front of the apartment complex. 

“You,” John says as he enters the car, “are a lifesaver.”

“Can I ask why you need a drink so desperately and your boyfriend of _eight years_ apparently wouldn’t go with you?” Lafayette asks. 

John sighs. He and Alex already agreed not to tell anyone about this, not even Lafayette and Mulligan. Because Laf and Mulligan are the biggest fucking blabbermouths in the nation, and they would most certainly tell someone that they were faking it, and then that would snowball into a disaster. “He’s working. Debt plan and end-of-year shit.”

Laf nods, but he looks far from convinced.

Thirty minutes later, John is working on this third pint of Sam Adams while Lafayette finishes another mimosa. “How’re things now that you and Alex are public?” Lafayette inquires, his words a little slurred and his accent more prominent than usual.

“No thanks to you.” John mutters. “It’s weird. People either love us because we’re gay or they hate us because we’re gay. Have you heard what Jefferson said about us?”

“I don’t know why you all hate Thomas so much. He’s actually not that bad.”

“You only like him because he has a boner for France, like, twenty-four seven.” John says. “He made an address earlier today saying Alex and I are bad because we’re gay and made this whole thing about how we can’t have a gay make our debt plan. The whole thing was kind of hypocritical coming from a guy who loves baguettes so much, if you ask me.” 

Lafayette scowls, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you and Alex have a mission to ruin baguettes for literally everyone around you?”

“My dear sweet Lafayette, baguettes are very sexual objects.”

“I’m too sober for this.” Laf groans as he orders another drink.

 

“Lafayette, can I tell you something?” John asks, some time later. He’s unsure of how much he’s had to drink, but he knows that he is _very_ , very drunk.

Laf is significantly less drunk than John is. He stopped drinking pretty quickly, simply watching as John dug himself deeper and deeper into the hole of drunkness he sits in now. He can probably see that there’s something troubling John. “What?”

“You have to _promise_ not to tell anyone.”

“I promise, mon ami.” Laf says. Perhaps he should take his phone out and get this on video. Just to have some blackmail material. 

John hesitates, weighing his words – or at least, weighing his words as much as a drunk person can. “Alexander and I… aren’t really dating.” He says – rather, slurs.

“What?” Lafayette exclaims, only to be shushed by John. “Then why are you pretending to be?”

“Because… because _reasons_.” John says, obviously not thinking properly. “But that’s not my problem.”

Lafayette raises his eyebrows, thinking it would most certainly be a good idea to get this on tape. But he doesn’t, because he is one damn good friend. “And what, exactly, is your problem?”

John knocks back the rest of his beer before speaking. “I like Alexander.”

“Of course you do. We all like Alexander. He’s our friend.” 

“No, you baguette! I mean I _like_ -like him.” John explains.

The trials and tribulations of English being your second language. “So you’re in love with him, oui?” Lafayette asks. 

“I…” John hesitates. “Yes. I love him.” Any qualms he would’ve had about admitting this are erased by the amount of beer currently running through his system.

“I don’t see the problem.” Lafayette says. “He is the one who kissed you in the first place, non?” 

“Well, yes, but we both kind of agreed that it was just a drunken mistake? And now, fuck, we have to live together and kiss on camera and we share a bed for god’s sake-” 

Lafayette cuts John off. “Vous partagez un lit et vous êtes seuls amis?” It seems Lafayette is getting a bit too drunk for his own good, since he’s once again reverted to French.

John isn’t fluent enough in French for his drunk mind to translate things into the language and articulate sentences correctly, so he only recognizes a few words. He wishes Alex was here. Alex, who is fluent in French and also quite attractive. Hell, he wishes Alexander was with him all the time.

“I only have one bed.” He tries to explain, even though Laf probably barely understands English already. “We don’t have sex, we just, ah… lie on opposite sides of it? I don’t know. All I know is that I have to keep being so close to this asshole and then I have to pretend like it doesn’t matter and… and I’m – I’m sick of _pretending_ , even if it’s only been a week.”

“Alors dites-lui.” Lafayette responds, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“But – he thinks of me as an – un ami – and I don’t want to ruin that.” 

“Arrêter de parler si vite, s'il vous plait.”

“Je ne parle pas français!” John says, very well aware that he is both butchering Lafayette’s first language and being a hypocrite. 

Lafayette laughs. “Vous venez de faire, mon cher.”

“We’re going home.” John mutters, having achieved nothing besides exactly what he and Alex decided _not_ to do. And manage to get two people very drunk in the process.

Lafayette pouts. They stumble out of the bar and over to Lafayette’s car. John may not be in his right mind, but he at least knows that either of them driving would be a disaster. “We can’t drive.” He says to Lafayette. It takes Laf longer than usual to comprehend the statement, but he nods.

“We could walk to my place. You can, what is the word, stay the night.” Lafayette’s words come out sloppy and broken, but John appreciates the effort.

John shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He answers in his infinite drunken wisdom. “You can go home. I’ll call someone – I’ll call Alex to pick me up.”

He somehow manages to convince Lafayette that this is a good idea, despite everything covered in their earlier conversation. They bid each other goodnight, and then Lafayette walks down the street, saying he’ll just get his car in the morning after he sleeps this off. His apartment is less than half a block away from the bar, anyway.

John unlocks his phone to find close to thirty missed calls from Alex, and about as many voicemails. He curses under his breath and calls Alexander back.

“John!” Alex exclaims. “Where are you? Are you okay? Oh my god, I’ve been so worried-”

“Can you – can you pick me up? I think I drank a little too much.” John says, knowing full well that the words are probably insanely morphed by his BAC.

“Are you outside the bar?”

“Mmhm.”

Alex pauses, and there is a sound of a door slamming. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t move, okay?” 

John makes a noise of agreement and hangs up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations from French:   
> Salut: hello  
> Vous partagez un lit et vous êtes seuls amis?: You share a bed and you are only friends?  
> Alors dites-lui: then tell him  
> Arrêter de parler si vite, s'il vous plait: stop talking so fast, please  
> Je ne parle pas français!: i do not speak french!  
> Vous venez de faire, mon cher: you just did, my dear
> 
> also, a historical note: Lafayette actually was friends with TJeffies


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's perspective on the evening John spends out drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for anxiety and mentions of death

Chapter Six 

If there’s one thing Alexander _really_ doesn’t want to do, it’s go into work. But it’s almost the end of the year and he’s going to be busy with that for another two weeks and then he has debt plan stuff so he really can’t just take the day off, even if he worked on his laptop for ten hours already.

He planned to go in rather early, but then he got caught up in watching the movie with John, and then he got cold again and his place in John’s arms was too great to give up. He promised he would go in just fifteen minutes. But then he forgot. And then the movie ended.

Alex stumbles out the door hastily almost as soon as the movie ends. As he practically runs to his office, he types out a text to John and sends it.

Ham: I’m sorry I had to leave. It’s just some end of year stuff; I’ll be back very soon, I promise. Sorry.

He waits for John to reply, but is met with silence. Alex starts to worry. His friends never ignore his texts, even if they only respond with one word to let him know they got the text and that they’re okay. Alex needs to know that they’re okay. It keeps him from worrying.

But his nervous thoughts are cleared while he gets to work at his computer, typing furiously to make sure he can finish everything quickly. He promised he would go home, he doesn’t want John to get worried. And so he finishes up the document he had to submit in just under an hour, and sighs with relief when it’s finished.

Ham: I’m on my way home now. Sorry again for leaving.

He waits a few minutes for John to respond, and is once again met with nothing. So he puts his coat on, shoves his phone in his pocket, and starts walking back to the apartment. 

It’s already dark outside, and the wind chill is brutal. Alex shrinks into his scarf and stuffs his gloved hands in his pockets while he walks. DC winters may not be as bad as New York winters, but they still fucking suck.

“John?” Alex calls as he enters the apartment. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

The lights are all off. Alex makes his way through the apartment, flicking them all on and looking for John. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s already working, so just come out, please.” He calls shakily. 

Maybe John left. Alex _did_ make him come home in the middle of food shopping earlier today. He’s probably shopping or something.

Alex calls John’s cell phone. John doesn’t pick up. Alex leaves a voice mail. Rinse and repeat. 

“John? It’s Alex again. This is the sixteenth time I’ve called you and you haven’t picked up yet. Where are you? Are you okay? I’m starting to get – I’m really worried. Please call me back.”

By call twenty-four, Alex is sitting on the couch because his legs started feeling wobbly, like they always do when he panics. His hands are shaking, but they’ve been shaking for a while, and god damn it he is so worried. 

He calls again. Two more times. Nothing. 

It’s getting very, very hard not to freak the fuck out.

Alex takes a deep breath and runs through his options. He’s gone over this with his friends, what to do if one of them panics. They agreed to let at least one person know how they’re feeling – which, technically, Alex did when he called John twenty-four times. But it wouldn’t hurt to talk his worries out with someone.

Mulligan, thank god, answers on the first ring. “Hey, Hammy! How’re you doing?”

Alex takes a shaky breath. “Have you seen John recently?”

“What’s wrong?” Hercules picks up on Alex’s worry almost immediately. 

“I left for an hour to go get some stuff done at the office, and when I got back home he wasn’t there and I’ve been calling and texting him and he still hasn’t responded and I’m so worried.” Alexander expels the entire sentence in one breath.

“Shh, shh, Alex, it’s going to be okay. John probably had to go into work for something, too. His phone is just on silent. It’s going to be fine. John is fine.” Hercules says gently, trying to keep Alex calm.

Alexander forces himself to take a deep breath before he speaks again. “But John never completely silences his phone. And when he does, he only puts it on do not disturb so he receives my texts and calls. He said – he said he’d always answer.” He makes a sound that makes it sound like he only just swallowed a sob.

“I’m sure that he didn’t mean for this to happen. You’ve called him more than once, yeah?” 

“Twenty-six times.” His voice definitely cracks that time.

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No. He was home when I left and I came back and he’s gone and I don’t know where he is, oh god, I’m so scared.” Alexander mutters a curse as he feels something wet making its way down his cheek.

“Are you okay?” Herc asks. “Do you want me to come over?”

It takes Alex a while to respond. He’s seriously considering telling Hercules to come over, but Herc doesn’t know that Alex and John aren’t really dating. Alex has no doubt that he would accidentally let it slip if Hercules came over. That and the fact that even though Alex has very little shame, he’d really prefer to cry messily over John alone. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, though.” 

“If you change your mind, I’m only a phone call away, okay?” Hercules says, clearly not entirely convinced.

“Yeah, I promise.” Alexander assures him. “Is – is Lafayette home? Do you think he would know where John is?”

“Laf left, like, two hours ago. Didn’t say where he was going, just that he’d be back some time tonight. You could try to call him, though.”

“Okay. Okay, thanks.” Alex says, but he sounds distracted and miserable.

“Of course.” 

“No. No, really. Thank you, Hercules.” 

“Any time, Alex. You know that.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Herc.”

“Goodnight, Alex.” 

Alex puts the phone down feeling somewhat calmer than he had been previously, but still nervous. And he’s crying now. That’s a new and exciting development. 

He decides to try and call Laf, since it wouldn’t hurt to try. But Lafayette doesn’t pick up, either. 

Alex takes a deep breath again because he knows he’s overreacting and he knows he’s being stupid but he just can’t help it. John won’t answer the phone and Lafayette won’t answer the phone and not even Hercules knows where they are. Alex is still crying, he’s crying and he hates it. 

The small part of his brain that’s being rational knows that they’ll be back soon, but there’s a bigger part of him that feels like he’s twelve and his mother just died. And if Mother isn’t going to come back, then why should John and Lafayette come back? They aren’t answering their phones because they’re dead, and that’s what happens to everyone who knows Alexander, they die and they don’t come back. 

He calls John again one last time, just to check. And John doesn’t answer. Alex leaves a voicemail and he knows John won’t get it but he leaves it anyway, trying to get out as many words as he can before the sobs make it too hard for him to talk. 

Alex doesn’t know how long he stays like that, sitting on the couch and crying. He tries to do something, tries to call Hercules again and tell him that their two best friends are dead, but every time he tries to do something he just ends up crying harder. After a while, he realizes that sitting there will do nothing, because now he has all this pent-up fear and sadness and anger and he needs a way to get it _out_. 

Alexander takes to pacing the entire apartment. Plenty of people have called him annoying for pacing so much, but it clears his mind. He paces for what is either very short time, or the longest time of his life, he can’t tell. When he finishes pacing he sits down at his desk and he starts rapid-fire typing.

He types something he knows is irresponsible, but when has Alex backed down from a challenge? John would make him stop and would refuse to let Alex post it to his blog, but John _isn’t here_ and Alexander has neither impulse nor a bone of chill in his body. So he opens a word document and types paragraph after paragraph and, when he’s finally finished, uploads it to his blog.

It takes him longer than usual to type, though, since his hands haven’t stopped shaking. Sometimes he has to stop and compose himself before going back to typing. He keeps his phone right next to his laptop. It doesn’t ring once.

Alexander hits the post button and waits, refreshing his feed every few seconds to see if anybody’s responded. He stares at his phone and, almost as soon as he rests his gaze on it, it starts to ring.

 _John._ It’s John, he’s calling Alex and he isn’t dead and oh god, John is alive.

“John!” It’s a miracle that Alex can get the words out without crying. “Where are you? Are you okay? Oh my god, I’ve been so worried-”

“Can you – can you pick me up? I think I drank a little too much.” John says, or at least that’s what Alex thinks he said. He’s too drunk to be forming sentences correctly.

“Are you outside the bar?” Alex asks, his tone worried.

“Mmhm.”

Alex doesn’t even bother to pull his scarf and gloves on; he only throws his coat on because it’s close and then he’s running out the door, not caring that it slams behind him. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t move, okay?”

John ends the call. 

John is okay. Maybe he’s even more drunk than Ben Franklin was at that infamous Christmas Party five years ago, but he’s alive and he’s okay and everything is going to be fine.

It takes Alexander a while to realize that he’s laughing while he runs down the street. He wipes the tears off his face so that John doesn’t see them. Just one more street, one more street and he’ll see John again, John who is only drunk and not dead.

“John!” Alex calls out when he comes into view.

John looks more than a little worse for wear. He leans against a telephone pole and waves his arm. “Alex.” He responds.

Alex throws his arms around John and it takes John a little while to react and John teeters a bit, but he’s _John_. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Alex asks.

“I didn’t hear my phone ringing. The music was _so loud_ in there, you know?” John slurs. 

Alex arranges John’s arm around his shoulders and starts to walk back to the apartment, only struggling a little under John’s weight. He decides not to bring up his… episode, since it was stupid anyway and John’s okay and it doesn’t matter. “How much did you drink?” Alex asks instead.

John shrugs. “Lost count after three.”

“Three what? Pints?”

John nods.

Alexander sighs. Of course John went out and got drunk. “We’re almost home, just hold on, okay?” 

“Dunno why you’re so worried. ‘M fine.” John protests.

Alex shakes his head and stays silent for the rest of the walk home. John immediately flops down on the bed. Alex moves him over on his side so he doesn’t hurt himself while he sleeps. His phone buzzes.  
Horsefucker: Laf is home 

Horsefucker: said he was out drinking

Horsefucker: are you okay?? Is your boyfriend okay??

It takes Alex a second to realize that Hercules meant John when he said “boyfriend”. 

Hammy: He called me to pick him up. I think he was at the bar with Laf. He drank a hell of a lot. 

Horsefucker: are you okay?

Hammy: I’m fine.

Horsefucker: you sure?

Hammy: Positive.

They say their goodnights again. Alex puts his phone and glances at the bed, where John is sleeping soundly. Alex, however, is far too keyed up to sleep. He’s still pretty anxious from the whole John thing and his phone is blowing up with notifications from his latest blog post. Alex scrawls out a note on a piece of paper, leaves it on the kitchen table, and slips out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex is that One Person who always sends really long texts with proper capitalization and punctuation


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John seeks Alexander out to apologize for last night. Burr makes his appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly theres no historical accuracy in this at all   
> Burr is the other NY senator along with John

Chapter Seven

The first thing John is aware of when he wakes up is his _ridiculous fucking headache_. The second thing he notices is that Alexander isn’t in the bed and the ever-present sound of typing that happens when Alex isn’t sleeping isn’t there. 

“Alex?” He calls, and his voice sounds horrible and scratchy. 

There’s no response, but there is a bright yellow post-it note on the wall next to John’s head. Just the sight of it hurts his eyes. Eh, he’ll read it later. 

John wonders if Lafayette feels this crappy. He decides to call him. 

John feels around blindly until he finds his phone on his bedside table and dials Laf. “Hello?”

“John?” The voice is too not-French to be Laf’s.

“Herc?”

“Lafayette is too busy being hungover to pick up the phone.” Hercules explains. “I don’t even think he’s been awake for five minutes at a time all day.”

“All day?” John asks. “What time is it?” 

Hercules pauses while he looks at the clock. “Like, half past two?”

“Damn, I slept late.” John mutters.

Herc laughs. “How’s Alex? Did you guys work out whatever happened last night?”

“What do you mean?” John asks. He doesn’t remember anything happening with Alexander last night.

“It isn’t my place to meddle in your relationship,” Herc says, “but you might want to check your voicemails. And then check Alex’s blog. And then look at literally any news website. And then call me back.”

“Okay?” John is beyond confused. But before he can ask another question, Hercules hangs up. 

Alex has left him just short of thirty voicemails, all of them dated from last night. The first few are just asking where he is, but they soon got more and more panicky. The last one – dear god, the last one – is hard to understand, and John has to listen to it three times just to hear what Alex was saying. He was crying – no, sobbing – so much that it made him almost impossible to understand. He thought John was dead. _Alex was freaking out and he thought John was dead and John didn’t answer him._ It’s John’s job to calm Alex down when Alex is nervous and he blew it.

John doubts that Alex’s blog post could be any worse than the voicemails. It turns out to be paragraph after paragraph about why Jefferson’s address was shit. Alex always makes rebuttals to anything Jefferson says, but this one is different. The speech lacks the finesse and eloquence that accompany all of Alex’s writing. It isn’t as organized as Alex’s speeches are, and he curses liberally throughout the whole thing. Any and every insult that Alex has ever said about Jefferson is included in the post – faux-velvet wearing asshat, farmer fondler, pompous mac and cheese-loving dipshit, and asshole who’s brain is made of seventy-five percent farmland and twenty-five percent swivel chairs, to name a few. 

In short, John’s headache just got so much worse. 

He drags himself out of bed and reads the post-it note, fear rising in his chest. Please let Alex be okay, please let Alex be okay… it’s from Alex. He said he was going over to his office because he had “work to do.” 

He’s lying. Well, not entirely lying. Alex does have a shitton of work to do. But none of it needed immediate overnight attention. He’s still scared and he’s burying his emotions in work.

John calls Hercules back. 

“Well?” Herc asks.

“Holy fucking shit.” John breathes. “I had no idea-”

“I know.” Herc cuts him off. “I know you didn’t mean for him to be nervous, but he is nervous and you _are_ his boyfriend.”

“Oh my god, Herc, of course I’m going to go see him and calm him down.” John says. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” The last sentence is choked out awkwardly. 

Lafayette grumbles something from his slumber. John pretends he didn’t hear.

Hercules laughs. “You’ve got an adventure ahead of you, and it looks like Laf needs someone to spoil his hungover ass, so I’ve gotta go. Good luck with Alex.”

John nods and hangs up the phone, staring dejectedly at the floor for a few moments before getting ready to face the day. Alex left two Advil on the counter, accompanied with a note saying ‘you’ll probably need these.’ John says a silent thank you to Alex as he swallows them.

He’s forced to walk all the way across town to Alex’s office, since neither of them own cars. It takes him a little over half hour, and he doesn’t mind the walk as much as he minds thinking about how upset Alex must be.

It doesn’t occur to him until he stands at the office’s doorstep that he doesn’t own a key to Alex’s office. He tries the door, locked. Alex _locked_ the door to his office. He must be freaking out.

And then John remembers where Alex keeps his spare key. With Burr. In Burr’s office. Which means John will have to interact with Burr to see Alex. Excellent. 

It’s not that John hates the other senator from New York. It’s more like… extreme dislike. And for some reason, Alex has had a love/hate relationship with the man ever since he arrived in America. When Alex found out their offices were next door, he gave Burr his spare key, claiming that he trusted Burr more than he trusted a welcome mat in terms of key-hiding ability. Burr gave Alex his spare key, too. Of course he did.

John knocks thrice on Burr’s door. 

Burr opens the door. “Senator Laurens. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Senator Burr.” John replies, mirroring Burr’s tone. “Oh, uh, I was wondering if I could borrow the spare key to Alex’s office?”

Burr invites him to come in and sit down. “Pardon me for asking, but wouldn’t you have a key to Alex’s office, since you’ve been dating for, what is it, eight years?”

“Ever since Alex moved in, it’s been impossible to find anything.” John says. “I would hope you, of all people, could sympathize with me.”

If there’s one thing Alexander isn’t, it’s orderly. His living and working spaces are always an absolute mess. That’s how people can tell when he’s in his element. Surrounded by work and a mess that makes sense only to him. Burr couldn’t stand it, and he was Alex’s roommate for all four years of college. John wonders why Alex has been so organized ever since he moved in. He guesses Alex must be getting used to his surroundings. 

“That is true.” Burr agrees. (Does this guy have to be so diplomatic all the time? For god’s sake, at least use contractions!) 

“So, do you have the key?” John asks.

Burr nods, walking over to a shelf, where he retrieves the key from. John thanks him as he pockets the key and stands.

“Wait, Laurens, before you go.” Burr says. John turns around.

“What?” If it’s senate stuff, John is going to shoot someone.

Burr glances around the room, choosing his words. “Is Hamilton okay?”

“What?”

Burr coughs while he searches for the right words. “He worked the night straight through two nights in a row, now. I don’t think he’s slept in three. And with all the pressure you two have been facing since you came out, I’m just worried for him. His blog post from last night was different from his usual writing. I don’t know.” 

John nods. “I know. I – he’s Alexander. He goes through shit in December with all the end-of-year stuff anyway, and now this… He’s very secretive.” Burr raises his eyebrows at that. “Definitely not with his political opinions. But he hides his emotions. I was just going over to talk to him and make him sleep.”

“Good luck with that.” Burr says, walking John out.

 

From: JLaw: Burr just had a conversation with me??

From: JLaw: about alex ??

From: JLaw: and he was actually being pleasant??

From: JLaw: do you see any pigs flying because I’m 100% sure im in the twilight zone or smth

From: Baguette Fondler: the only thing I am seeing is regret

From: Baguette Fondler: never let me drink that much again

From: Baguette Fondler: I blame you

From: JLaw: <3

 

John walks to Alex’s office, which is right next to Burr’s. He unlocks the door as quietly as possible, just in case Alexander passed out at his desk.

He hears a crashing noise, followed by a “who’s there?” in a very nervous tone.

John walks into the office, where Alex sits at his desk. The crashing noise was probably a pile of papers falling to the ground. “It’s just me. It’s John.”

“Oh.”

“I came to apologize about last night.” John says, walking up to Alex’s desk. “I was too busy drinking to realize that you were scared, and hell, Alex, I’m so sorry.”

Alexander shakes his head. “No, no, I was being stupid.”

“You weren’t being stupid. I should’ve answered you.” John insists. “You thought I _died_ , Alexander. We can’t just gloss over this.” 

He notices that Alex cringes when he mentions him dying. “But you’re not dead and that’s what matters.” Alex mumbles, but he doesn’t sound very convinced. 

John crouches down so he’s the same height as Alex is sitting down and wraps his arms around Alex. Alex’s first reaction is to jerk away. He has so much work to do, he can’t waste time. No wasting time until the year ends. No, until the debt plan is passed (which hasn’t been confirmed yet, but Alex knows he’s going to beat that asshole Jefferson). So, June. He can relax in June. 

But John is warm and Alex is cold and the office is cold. John’s embrace is sturdy and Alex hasn’t felt collected since John left. John is – John is _John_. Alexander practically melts into the embrace, letting his eyes close for more than a blink.

“Alex, you gotta sleep. You haven’t slept in, what is it, 56 hours?” John asks. Knowing John, he probably did the damn calculations. Alex is too tired to nod.

John lifts Alex up and into his arms. “Do you want me to carry you back home?”

Alex shakes his head. “Here is fine.” He mumbles.

“Alex, it’s freezing in here.”

“John, it’s freezing outside.” Alexander tries to mimic John’s tone.

John sighs, sees he’s not really going to get anywhere with this, and awkwardly shrugs off his coat while he holds Alex with one hand. He places Alex on the floor for a second, and Alex lets out a whine. John covers Alex with his coat (which is multiple sizes too big for Alex) and lifts him once again. He sits down in the corner with Alex in his arms, because the only place to sit in the office are two chairs that would be rather uncomfortable to sleep in.

Alexander tries to fight sleep one last time, but it’s no use. The coat smells like John and it surrounds him and _John_ smells like John and he’s too tired to form coherent thoughts but he thinks that John is the best smell and the best person to ever exist. He sighs in contentment and closes his eyes.

It occurs to John that he’s kind of stuck with Alex on his lap for the next few hours or until Alex wakes up. It also occurs to John that he doesn’t mind at all. He’s holding Alex, why would he mind? Alex is asleep in his arms and it’s absolutely excellent to know that Alex trusts him enough to fall asleep like this. But it’s also surprisingly painful. John wants to kiss Alex and tell him that he loves him but he can’t because Alex doesn’t know and Alex probably doesn’t like him anyway. 

John plays with Alex’s hair idly while he watches Alex sleep. In the past week or so, he’s decided that Alexander looks more peaceful at sleep than he does at any time he’s awake. He’s always working, always doing something and worrying about seven other things that he doesn’t have any time to relax.

God, he’s beautiful.

 

From: JLaw: I think I’m kind of freaking out here

From: JLaw: alex fell asleep in my arms

From: JLaw: !!!!!!

From: JLaw: h e l p me 

 

From: Horsefucker: Laf told me to tell you to shut up and stop texting him

From: Horsefucker: he hasn’t read your texts tho

From: Horsefucker: you okay??

From: JLaw: IM SO GAY FOR ALEX HELP ME

From: Horsefucker: you’ve been dating for 8 years ???

From: Horsefucker: im reading these aloud and Laf just laughed at me

From: Horsefucker: is there something im missing

 

John falls asleep eventually, resting his head against the wall. He wakes up again before the sun has completely set, and Alex is still sleeping in his lap. He smiles. 

And then Burr enters the office. “Alexander?” he asks. 

John shushes him. “Ever heard of knocking?” He whispers.

Burr walks over to them. “Hamilton and I established long ago that we didn’t have to knock when entering each other’s offices.”

There’s really no way John can prove that false without waking up Alex, and it certainly sounds like something Alex would do. “What do you need?” 

“I’m just about to leave my office for the night, and I came looking for Hamilton’s spare key.” 

“On the desk, next to his computer.” John would point if he could, but both of his hands are occupied by holding Alex. 

Burr nods and picks up the key. “One more thing before I leave, Laurens?”

“What?”

Burr takes a deep breath. “Alexander and I may not always see eye to eye on, well… anything. But I still consider him a friend. And I know you two have been dating for eight years already, but if you hurt him I will end you. Not just politically. I am rather good with a rifle.” 

“Don’t worry, Burr, I have no intention of hurting him.” That might be the only true thing about their relationship stunt. 

“Is there… any way I can help him?” Burr asks, undoubtedly referring to how nervous Alex has been lately. 

John has to concentrate on not rolling his eyes. “He’s scared because we have nobody supporting us, especially after what Jefferson did. Washington’s made an address saying he has no qualms about our relationship, but he couldn’t make it too supportive because he still wants to remain neutral. If you just made one declaration that you’re on our side, it’d make him so much happier.”

“Do you know how hard it’s been to cultivate a relationship with Jefferson?” Burr asks, in that infuriatingly calm voice he always uses. “I can’t just throw it out the window. And openly showing my support for a gay couple – let alone a gay couple concerning _Hamilton_ – would make him more than a little pissed off.” 

“Do you even give a shit about Alexander, or do you care more about keeping a clean rep?” John is trying very hard not to raise his voice above a whisper so he doesn’t wake up.

Burr shakes his head. “Unlike you two, I actually care what the people will think of me.”

Alex stirs then, turning a bit in John’s arms and letting out a groan. John runs his fingers through Alex’s hair, shushing him and whispering sweet nothings. Eventually Alex’s breathing evens out and he goes back to sleep.

“Why don’t we stop arguing?” John suggests, though he says it more like a command. “Alex hasn’t slept in three days and I don’t want to wake him up.”

Burr nods, pockets the key, and walks out of the office, looking more than a little uncomfortable. 

 

From: JLaw: I just got the shovel talk

From: JLaw: from b u r r 

From: JLaw: that’s right BURR

From: Horsefucker: that mustve been scarring

From: Horsefucker: Laf wants to know what a shovel talk is

From: JLaw: does he not have a phone today

From: Horsefucker: hes still rolling around in the bed in all his hungover glory

From: Horsefucker: he says hes too hungover for our American slang

From: JLaw: alex isn’t even that close to burr why did he give me the shOVEL TALK

From: JLaw: I can take care of my boyfriend just FINE

From: JLaw: I don’t need his crusty senator ass in my life

From: Horsefucker: youre also a senator??

From: JLaw: don’t rain on my parade

 

John doesn’t know how much longer it takes for Alex to wake up, probably an hour or so. His eyes shoot open and sits up, startled. “John?” He asks.

“I’m right here, Alex.” John says gently. “Come on, do you think you can walk home with me so you can sleep in an actual bed?”

Alex nods, yawning. “Thanks for letting me sleep on you.”

John smiles.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alex deal with the aftermath of last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just getting gayer and gayer

Alex tries to give John his coat back, but John refuses to take it. “You’re cold. You didn’t even bring your coat with you last night.” He says, putting it on Alex properly. It’s way too big for him, but it makes Alex look goddamn adorable. 

“But then you won’t have a coat.” Alex protests sleepily. 

“I’ll be fine. I have a sweater on anyway, and it’s only going to take a half hour.” John says. 

Alex looks like he could argue this further, but he’s too tired to put in any effort. He mumbles a ‘fine’ and heads out the door. 

There’s a million things John wants to ask Alex – if he is okay, exactly what happened last night, why he made the blog post. But Alex looks fucking exhausted – physically and emotionally – so he decides to just let it be for now. They can sort through all of this later. 

Alexander leans on John the entire way home. John offers to just carry him, but Alex declines. “The cameras.” Is all he offers in explanation. Though he’s half-asleep, he sounds paranoid. 

“They already think we’re dating.” John says, “I’m sure it won’t be an issue if they see me carrying you. It’s dark, anyway.

Alex shakes his head. “’M fine.” 

Another fifteen minutes, however, and Alex asks for a rest. He leans against a telephone pole and starts to nod off. John smiles. “Can I carry you now?”

He receives only a tired murmur in response. 

“You have to sleep more.” John whispers as he lifts Alex up and carries him to the apartment. It’s not like Alex is heavy – no, that’s the opposite of the problem. Alex is too light. He needs to take better care of himself. 

Alex makes a tired noise in reply. 

Neither of them speak until they’re home. John doesn’t want to stop Alex from sleeping, and Alexander is just too tired to hold conversation. John deposits Alex and sets to untying his shoes. Alex mumbles something about leaving them on, it’s not like it matters anyway. John takes them off. 

“Get some rest, okay, Alex?” John asks. 

Alexander doesn’t respond. He’s too busy being asleep. Or at least, trying to sleep. Because then John gets in the bed and he’s not as tired anymore.

Sharing a bed had never really been a problem for them. Sure, the first day it was weird. But they’ve been friends for so long that they never said anything. But now, something feels different. 

Both John and Alex are suddenly acutely aware of the few inches in between them. John thinks about how it would feel to move over just a tiny bit more and wrap his arm around Alex. Alex thinks about how it would feel to slide over to John and fall asleep in his arms. Neither of them move. 

 

The next morning goes as their mornings usually go now: Alex is awake first, already clacking away at his computer by the time John wakes up, John makes them breakfast, Alex gets ready to go somewhere – it varied, sometimes the hill, his office, someone else’s office, the White House. 

John stops him before he leaves. “Do you have to be somewhere at a certain time?”

Alex shakes his head. “Just debate prep today. Since it’s tomorrow.” He says. 

“Can we… talk for a second? Really quick, before you go?”

Alexander swallows hard. “Did I do something wrong? ‘Cause I’m really sorry and I’ll fix whatever it was, sorry-”

John cuts him off before he can finish his apology. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Alexander. This is just about yesterday and the day before. Nothing you did was wrong.” When could Alex do something wrong?

The sentiment, though well-intended, does not seem to calm Alex down. He opens his mouth again, probably to start another round of apologies.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay.” John tells him gently, patting the spot on the bed next to him. “The voicemails you sent me – you were really worried. Can I ask why you thought I was dead? And, uh, don’t sugarcoat? I want to know how you feel.” He’s using his calm voice, the one he uses when he talks to little animals.

Alexander takes a deep breath. At first he doesn’t want to be honest with John, wants to brush it off and say everything was a misunderstanding. But he’s always secretive and he feels the words building up in his throat, threatening to bubble over, and he talks.

“You weren’t answering.” Alex says, half-mumbles, “and I let my mind get ahead of me and I thought that when people don’t answer they…” He trails off.

John hesitates. “Can I – do you mind if I-” He mimes putting his arms around Alex. Alexander nods. John puts his arm around Alex, who moves a little closer so they’re touching, almost hugging. Maybe it’s a little awkward at first, but neither of them are entirely willing to let go. “I’m sorry I worried you like that.”

“It’s not your fault.” Alex says. 

“Would you be okay talking about your blog post? It’s okay if you don’t want to.” John asks.

Alex shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I, uh, after I thought you were dead I kind of… panicked? And then – and then nothing mattered, so I sat down to write a rebuttal to Jefferson, but everything was pointless and meaningless so I took everything out on him and I didn’t hold back. I didn’t read it over aside from when I checked for grammar mistakes, so it’s probably terrible and vulgar but… I don’t think I’m going to take it down.”

The impact of his “death” on Alex hits John like a freight car. Alex was so, so worried about him and he was busy being drunk. He wrote the blog post not caring about what extremes he went to, not caring about… anything. All because he thought John was dead. 

“Alex, oh my god, I’m so sorry.” John says, trying to think of ways to console him, but Alex shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.” Alex tries to brush it off. “I’d love to stay, but I really have to finish up my arguments for the debate tomorrow.” _I wish I could stay, but you don’t reciprocate my feelings, and I can’t torture myself with this. Working on the debate would be best for us anyway._

John watches him as he leaves, Alex’s expression almost… sad.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings in this chapter for slight homophobia

Chapter Nine

That night, Alex ends up sending John a text saying he won’t be able to come home because of all the work he has to do. He ends up apologizing at least fifteen times, and John has to send him multiple texts in response telling him it’s fine, everything is fine. Alexander calms down eventually – but only after a phone call from John, who tells him that it’s not his fault, everything is okay, tomorrow will go fine, if he needs anything call John, at least try to get some sleep, he’ll see Alex tomorrow. 

From: JLaw: are you done being hungover because I am s u f f e r i n g 

From: JLaw: I love alex so much jfc heLP ME

From: Baguette Fondler: your problem, mon ami

From: Baguette Fondler: though he did bang you 

From: Baguette Fondler: and you say your love is unrequited

From: JLaw: we were drunk off our asses

From: JLaw: anyway hes working the night at the white house 

From: JLaw: prepping for the debate even though hes been prepping for WEEKs

From: Baguette Fondler: weve established alex is the energizer bunny years ago

From: Baguette Fondler: get some sleep its almost midnight and you have a cabinet meeting to attend early tomorrow morning

From: JLaw: laf you aren’t my mom

From: Baguette Fondler: if you don’t fall asleep right now ill hire Burr to talk at you until you fall asleep from listening to him

From: JLaw: jeez jeez okay im going don’t threaten me like that

From: JLaw: goodnight laf

From: Baguette Fondler: bonne nuit, john

John, despite being a mess on the emotional front, is so exhausted that he falls asleep almost instantly. It’s strange, falling asleep without Alex’s body on the other side of the bed. The bed feels so much bigger than he remembers it. Bigger and colder. 

He shakes his head, clearing it and finally succumbing to sleep. But only after he makes sure he has his ringer turned all the way up in case Alex calls.

His alarm jars him from sleep, and then John is up and at it. He wasn’t aware that one could get ready so fast – but, in less than half an hour, he’s dressed up in all his official senator garb and ready to go to the White House. Ready to see Alex again. 

In his nervousness, or perhaps because he decides he isn’t already jumpy enough, John stops at the Starbucks to get coffee. He gets Alex a double expresso – his favorite – and maybe it’s out of habit or maybe it’s because he wants to see Alex’s face light up when he receives the coffee. 

From: JLaw: where are you? Im at the WH

From: Hammy: office

It’s not Alex’s usual sentence structure. John doesn’t have to be a genius to figure out that Alexander is freaking the fuck out. 

From: JLaw: ill be right there. Youll be fine

John practically fucking sprints to Alex’s office, and he doesn’t even receive any weird looks for it. It seems that everyone working in that damn White House has become accustomed to Alexander’s strange ways, and they probably don’t think twice about Alex’s ‘boyfriend’ running down countless corridors to get to Alex’s office.

“Alex?” John asks, knocking on the door.

Alexander tells him to come in. Said man is pacing around the office, holding a stack of papers so tightly his knuckles are white. He’s muttering things under his breath, occasionally glancing down at the papers but for the most part staring at whatever happens to be in front of him. Alex stops pacing when John enters.

“I brought you coffee.” John says, almost uncertainly, handing Alex the cup.

Alex reaches over to his desk, grabs a new bottle of red bull, and drinks both the coffee and red bull in two gulps. “Thank you.” He says once he’s finished. Alexander is either shaking from nerves or caffeine or both.

“You’re going to do fine, you know.” John points out, and he’s right. Alexander is absolutely amazing when it comes to debating, and he’s been preparing for this debate since Washington won the vote. 

“But what if I mess up? You know how Jefferson is – he slams every single one of his adversaries. He’s going to bring up the whole bisexual thing and the whole us dating thing and the blog post. And if this debt plan isn’t passed, they’re going to call for my removal. I can’t be removed from my post! I need to pay bills and rent and I can’t do that if I don’t do exceptionally in this debate. And if I can’t pay the bills, I’ll have to live on the street again and I’ll starve but this time there won’t be a group of people giving me money to go to college and then I’ll die.” Alexander replies, riddling off everything on his fingers. 

John shakes his head. “No, no, Alex, everything will be fine. You aren’t going to lose your job. Besides, I would never kick you out of our apartment, no matter what you do. Just focus on getting through the debate, and everything will be pieced together, okay?”

Alexander swallows hard. “Okay.” 

“Just get through the debate, okay? I’ll be there the whole time. Look at me if you get nervous. After the debate, we can do whatever you want. Ice cream, Netflix, whatever.” 

Alex pretends he doesn’t want to kiss John. 

John walks out to the Cabinet Room with Alex, holding his hand to help stop the shaking. There’s press in every possible space they’re allowed, which only makes Alex more nervous. John puts his arm around Alex’s shoulder in an attempt to steady him. 

Thankfully, Washington has made sure no reporters have made it into the Cabinet Room. He’s standing at a podium in the center of the room, and various cabinet members are sitting at the table. Jefferson and Madison aren’t there yet, but John has a feeling they’re somewhere in the building. 

“You’re going to be fine.” John repeats. “Besides, Jefferson is the one who’s always worried about speaking publicly. You’ll do one hundred times better than him regardless.”

Alexander nods as an intern hands him a mug of coffee. He, once again, downs it in one sip. John catches Washington trying not to cringe. 

“My hands are shaking.” Alex notes, though he seems to be the last person to realize this. 

John nods. “I know, love. You’ve had too much caffeine. You’ll be okay, though. It’s nothing to worry about.” He tests out the endearment, looking to see if Alex is repulsed to it. On the contrary, though, it’s almost like Alexander relaxes when John says it. 

They’re all silent for a while, even Alex. Though his jittery, nervous silence is pretty much worse than his usual non-stop talking. 

Jefferson and co. (read: Madison) arrive about three minutes before the debate was set to start. They take their seats and, after some coaxing, John gets Alex to sit. 

The debate is… nerve-wracking. Washington moderates, of course. Jefferson speaks first. Alex goes second. Staying seated is a challenge for John, who keeps shuffling every few seconds. He’s nervous for Alex and can’t help but think about how he should be standing next to him, calming his nerves and holding his hand. Whispering sweet nothings in Alex’s ears, about how he loves Alex and how Alex is wonderful and how he has this in the bag. But he stays in his seat, no matter how ridiculously agonizing it is. (Now that John thinks about it, Madison doesn’t look like he’s in good shape, either.)

Jefferson speaks for about twenty minutes. Alexander, well, in true Alex fashion, he speaks for over an hour and a half. 

After the debate, John is very happy being able to get out of his seat and walk around. He’s ready to collect Alex and go home, but Alex is in a corner talking to Jefferson and Madison. John is ready to go over there and put an end to the debate waiting to happen, but he’s stopped by Charles Pinckney, a Senator of South Carolina.

“Senator Laurens.” Pinckney greets. John feels his stomach drop – nothing good has ever come out of John’s first home. This has his father written all over it. 

“Senator Pinckney.” John mirrors his tone. He doesn’t want to deal with his father now; he already has so much shit to deal with, he doesn’t need this too. 

“I have a message from your father.” Although Pinckney’s tone is colloquial, it sounds to John like a death sentence. “He told me to tell you to check your emails.”

John stiffens. “I appreciate the gesture, but he isn’t my father.” 

Pinckney nods. “I am simply the messenger.” He says, always trying to cover himself. 

Remaining light and friendly is slowly killing John. He turns away and walks over to Alex. 

Alex, who is in the middle of a full-on argument with Jefferson. Of course he is. Madison is standing by, his teeth clenched and a tight grip on Jefferson’s sleeve. 

“You don’t have the votes, either.” Jefferson is saying. 

“I can get the votes.” Alex insists. 

“Why should we let you make our debt plan, anyway?” Jefferson asks. “You’re a homosexual, Hamilton. There are very few things you can do correctly.”

“And why didn’t you bring this up during your side of the argument? Were you too afraid of the reporters picking it up and reporting it? Were you afraid that the people would dislike you, label you as a homophobe? Look at you. Trying to protect yourself and keep your reputation clean. You pathetic little shitstain.”

Jefferson laughs coldly. “Oh, dear sir, perhaps you have forgotten that I made a public address denouncing my support of you and your Laurens because of your little relationship? I’m already publicly against you.”

“You are such an ignorant farmfucker! Have you any idea how normal people think? If you weren’t such a haughty rich farmer-” 

“There you go with your creative insults. We’ve all had enough of those in your blog post. Your pathetic excuse for a blog post. What a petty move, making a, what do you call them, ‘call-out post’ for me on your tumblr?” He speaks the next part to the room, as if anyone is listening. “If y’all’d’ve read the damn post before coming to this debate, you would know the better man in this argument. Because a blog post so far above making a public address.”

“At least I have morals, asshole!” 

“At least I uphold the ideals of our nation, bastard!”

Alex freezes. He doesn’t even open his mouth to retort, just stands there. The remark stung, whether Jefferson meant it in the literal way or the simple insult way. Jefferson is going on another rant, but even Madison noticed how badly he screwed up.

John places his arm around Alex comfortingly, and the shorter man relaxes slightly. Jefferson, however, is still yelling at him.

“Thomas.” Madison says, in a voice that is a lot clearer and more distinct than it usually is. Jefferson almost immediately stiffens.

“Alex, dear, it’s time to go, okay?” John says gently. Alex barely nods.

“Are you okay?” John asks Alex. 

Alex doesn’t respond. “Alexander? What did Jefferson say to you?” 

“Doesn’ matter.” He mumbles. 

“It does matter.” John insists, though his voice remains gentle and calming. “You matter, Alexander, and this upset you. It matters. Just tell me, okay?” 

“He was fighting with me over the blog post, just like I knew he would. More about how I shouldn’t have control over anything, you know, because I’m gay – I’m not even gay, I’m bi – much less the debt plan. And – oh, you know, of course he insulted me. It’s stupid, it shouldn’t bother me anymore, but he used the word and you know how I feel about the word and – see? It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.” Alex rambles, his words rushed and a little panicky.

“It isn’t stupid, Alex. It matters to you. He shouldn’t have used the word. Now, how about we get you home and do something relaxing, like watch a movie?”

Alex nods, and he wants to hug John or kiss John or something, he wants _John_ and this limbo is killing him. The close proximity is killing him. Every word, every touch, is killing him.

John, for his part, isn’t much better. He might have excellent self-restraint, but he can only barely keep himself from wrapping his arms around Alex and kissing him senseless, he can barely keep himself from telling Alex that he is so completely in love – no. He can’t. Alex thinks of him as a friend and there is nothing more between them. John can’t let his feelings get in the way of their friendship. 

They exit the Cabinet Room to find reporters almost everywhere, all of them trying to ask Alex and John questions, most of them pertaining to their relationship and not the debate. They try to push their way through the throngs and it isn’t working. Both of them know what they have to do. 

They kiss, wrapping each other in their arms, but the kiss feels like an empty promise. The hallway is filled with the sound of shutters going off and cameras clicking as pictures are being taken.

And, if one listens carefully, they can hear the sound of both Alex and John’s hearts breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you felt like there were slight hints at jeffmads in this its because there were


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is short because it was the beginning of a bigger chapter but then that chapter got too long so i had to split it in two lmao here you go

“Shit shit no no no shit oh my god.” 

John clamps his hand over his mouth. When Pinckney told him to check his emails, John didn’t know what he expected. But he didn’t expect this. 

It’s an email from his father. Of course it is. 

John expected something from his father. As soon as they realized they had to fake this relationship, John knew he would be hearing from his father. As soon as John mentioned being kicked out of his house in the interview, he knew he would be hearing from his father. But nothing came for over a week, and after a while he thought he might be safe. 

He was, of course, wrong. 

John’s chest tightens as he reads over the passive aggressive phrases written by his father. He remembers most of them from the night he came out and the argument that followed. Except this time they’re written out like a business letter instead of being yelled. 

“What the fuck shit shit shit no goddamn it.” 

“John?” Alex asks, his voice still scratchy from sleep. He must’ve just woken up. Alex sits up and makes his way over to John immediately. 

“What? Oh, Alex, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep.” John says. Damn. Alex has never slept later than John, like, _ever_ , and here John goes, completely blowing it. 

Alex shakes his head and places his hand on John’s shoulder. “No, you’re worried. What’s wrong?”

In response, John angles his laptop so Alex can read it. Alex reads the email on the screen, his mouth dropping open as he progresses. “No.” He whispers.

John nods. “Fucking Pinckney told me to check my emails yesterday. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t fucking _this_.” He’s masking his anguish and slight fear with anger. He doesn’t want Alex to worry about him.

“Can he get away with this?” Alex asks, incredulous.

If John wasn’t so preoccupied with trying not to freak out, he would remind Alex that Alex was the lawyer of the two. “I – I don’t know.” 

Alex wraps his arms around John and tries to hold him, despite the fact that Alex is way smaller than him. “Hey. Hey. John, it’s okay. You’re an adult. He can’t hurt you.” 

“I know. He’s just – he’s a fucking asshole. And I can’t believe him. He disowned me years ago.” It’s almost funny how apathetically John can say that now, “Now he thinks he can send me a scalding email for being in a fucking relationship. I haven’t spoken to him in years.” 

“John. Are you okay?” Alex asks.

John exhales. “I’ll be fine. I’m just worked up.”

“It’s okay to be upset, you know.” Alex says softly. 

John shakes his head. “I’m done crying over that jerk.” He decides. “I’m going to call him.”

“We may both be impulsive idiots, but something tells me that isn’t the best idea.” 

“You were right. He’s an adult and he can’t hurt me. Which means I can call him.” John replies, resolute.

“Okay.” Alex relents. “I’m staying here with you, though, okay?”

John nods as he picks up his cell phone with shaking hands. He dials his old house number, having no clue if the number’s been changed or not. Still, he has hope. And… no. He dials the number and it’s someone’s number but that someone is not his father. 

“Damn.” He breathes.

“Not him?” Alex asks.

“I bet he had the fucking number changed after I left.” John says.

“How about we go get Starbucks and calm down, and then decide what to do about this?” Alex suggests. He's trying to distract John from the matter at hand and calm him down. Alex is one to talk, though. If John had a dollar for every time Alex has done something impulsive and shitty, he would be a billionaire.

John scowls. “That’s a really stupid idea because I need vengeance.” He says. “But clearly, I underestimate my weakness for coffee. Fine.” 

Alex smiles. 

 

Three – that’s right, _three_ \- caramel fraps (and a double expresso for Alex) later, they sit lazily at a table in Starbucks. John’s hands are shaking slightly, from the caffeine or the sugar or the email or all three. Alex reaches out almost hesitantly and takes John’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumb over John’s knuckles absentmindedly. 

John wonders if it is physically possible for a human to melt.

“You can tell me if you’re upset about the email, you know.” Alex mentions. “I won’t be annoyed or inconvenienced if you want to vent for a while.”

Still, John just shakes his head. “I’d rather not dwell on it.” _Besides, how am I supposed to feel anything but in love when you’re holding my hands like that?_ John wants to scream. 

“What are we going to do about your father?” Alex asks.

John grins. “Nothing. Because he wants and expects a response from me, so we’re going to give him the exact opposite of that.” 

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Alex agrees.


	11. Chapter Eleven

After that morning, John doesn’t see much of Alexander. 

There’s less than ten days until New Year’s. Alex explains that afternoon that he has a shitton of work to do, and of course he does. He’s the treasury secretary of the United States, for god’s sake. And it’s the year-end shit. And Alex has really been slacking as far as work goes, since he’s been so… preoccupied… faking a relationship with John.

“What about Christmas?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to come home for Christmas?”

“I don’t know. I can try. I… the workload is always huge. Every year. So. It gets kind of hard to think of anything besides work and I get kind of distracted with it and…”

John knows Alex well enough to know what that means. It means Alex works himself to the bone, barely stopping to eat or sleep. Hell, he probably forgets what day it is half the time. 

John nods. “Okay. Do what you have to do to keep our nation above the water for another year. But don’t be afraid to rest, okay? You might need to keep the nation alive, but _you_ have to be alive for that to happen.”

Alex tells him that okay, okay, he will, he promises. 

John doesn’t see Alex again until January first. Nobody sees much of Alex. The man holes himself up in his office in the White House and works. And works. And works. John finds himself in a constant state of worry about Alex’s wellbeing. Is he eating? Is he sleeping? John knows the answer to both of those questions and he knows he doesn’t like it. 

On the twenty-eighth, John receives a text from James Madison declaring that Alex told Madison to tell John Merry Christmas. 

So he doesn’t even know what day it is. 

John spends a lot of time texting or talking to Laf, complaining about how in love he is with Alexander and how worried he is and thousands of other things. Lafayette loves his friends, he really does, but there comes a point in time when constant pining gets less cutesy and romantic and more really fucking annoying. But he puts up with it, bless him.

On January first at 1:27 in the morning, he gets a call from one of Washington’s interns. They relay him a message from Washington. Washington’s exact quote to them, actually, was to ‘call John Laurens and tell him to collect his exhausted mess of a boyfriend.’ John laughs and says he’ll be right there.

He sprints all the way to the White House. 

The place is a lot less crowded than it usually is, for once. But that doesn’t change the fact that the hallways are long and he needs to get to Alex’s office, where Alex is probably almost passing out of exhaustion. He’s probably hungry and thirsty and shit, John should’ve visited him instead of waiting, despite Alex’s protests that he could do this by himself. 

“Alex?” John asks.

Alex looks up from his computer screen, but the screen is already black and who knows how long he’s been just staring at the blank screen. “John?” Damn, he sounds tired.

“I’m here to take you home, okay?” John asks gently.

Alex nods and shuts his computer. “’M tired.”

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“Maybe… seventy? Seventy-two?” Alex sounds unsure.

“Seventy-two _hours_?” John inquires, incredulous. “Come on, we’re going home so you can sleep.”

“Sounds nice.”

John lifts Alex, who doesn’t even try to protest, and carries him all the way to their apartment. Alex falls asleep in John’s arms, completely limp and trusting. John’s heart hurts. John places Alex in the bed – their bed – removes his coat and shoes, and tucks him in. Shortly after, John tucks himself into the other side of the bed.

Alex sleeps all night and all day. He wakes up in the early hours of the morning on what is technically January second. John is in bed on the brink of sleep, only awake because he can’t help but think about how peaceful Alex is when he sleeps.

Alex opens his mouth ever-so-slightly, confused as to how he got here and what day it is. John is already explaining. “It’s a little past three in the morning on January 2. Go back to sleep, Alex. You need it.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

John fills Alex in on everything that went on while he worked. John gets to be the one to break the news to Alex that he won the debate, the majority of the Senate voted for his debt plan. He gets to be there when Alex literally jumps up and down and nearly squeals in excitement. It’s one of the cutest things John has ever witnessed. 

It’s January 4th by the time Alex starts to work again – rather, by the time John allows him to work again. He makes Alex promise to eat and sleep and Alex laughs and says he can do everything he needs to right now from his desk at home. John sighs in relief. Those nine days without Alex were absolute torture. 

Alex is currently in their bedroom at his desk, typing away. John is on the couch buried under a blanket reading a book. The typing coming from the bedroom is such a comforting noise. He didn’t realize how calming it was until Alex was gone. But Alex is back now. Alex is back now! That fact will never not be exciting.

Rain begins to patter down on the windowsill, slow and rhythmic background noise. John revels in it, completely content. It’s strange how all it takes is Alex being back for everything to be absolutely wonderful.

Until, a few moments later, the typing stops.

John gets out of his blankety womb and walks into their bedroom to look for Alex and see why he’s stopped typing. Alex never stops unless he’s fallen asleep. John expects to find Alex sleeping at his desk or something of the sort, but he finds something different entirely. 

Alex is sitting at his desk chair with his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His head is buried in his knees and – is he _shaking_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if this even made sense whoops  
> also cliffhanger sorryyy


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It rains. Alex panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw-ish since literally the whole chapter is focused on anxiety/panic attacks

Chapter Twelve. 

“Alex?” John inquires nervously. Alex doesn’t even look up, just continues to shake. John sits on the floor next to Alex’s chair, looking up at him while he tries to think of what to do. 

Thunder claps and Alex winces, shaking harder than before. So that’s it. He’s afraid of the storm. 

“Alex, shh, shh, listen.” John soothes, wondering if touching Alex would make him panic more. 

Still, Alex doesn’t respond. John doesn’t want to upset Alex by holding him or moving him off the chair, but Alex is shaking so hard that he might fall off. He’s panicking, he can’t go through whatever he’s going through by himself. 

“Hey, Alex, I’m going to move you to the bed, is that okay?” John asks softly. 

When Alex doesn’t respond again, John scoops Alex into his arms. Alex whimpers at the movement and tenses for a moment before curling into John’s chest. He’s shaking so hard it makes John’s arms shake, and his chest is rising and falling rapidly, almost like he’s hyperventilating. “Alex, shh, you’re okay, it’s John, I’ve got you.” 

He settles on the bed, sitting against a pillow and not moving Alex from his arms. Alex is still shaking, though, despite how tightly he’s grabbing onto John. 

“Alex, Alex, Alex, you’re inside, you’re with me, you’re with John, you’re okay.” 

John unties Alex’s curly hair from its braid and runs his fingers through it slowly, since he knows that calms Alex down. But Alex is still freaking out, still shaking. John is starting to worry about him, but tries to stop himself because Alex needs attention, not him. John continues to whisper sweet, calming nothings to Alex, hoping they’ll make a difference.

Every time thunder sounds, Alex winces, burying himself deeper into John’s shirt. And John just holds him, tells him everything is okay, runs his fingers through Alex’s hair. But Alex’s breathing is irregular and erratic and he’s still freaking out.

“Alex, Alex, shh, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you, you’re safe.” 

At the mention of the word ‘safe’, Alex pauses for a second. He’s still panicking, but at least John was able to get through to him. 

“That’s right, Alex. You’re safe. We’re safe. You’re _safe_.” 

John starts breathing slowly and deeply, in for eight seconds and out for eight seconds. He lets his chest rise and fall, lifting Alex slightly and setting him back down again. “Can you breathe with me, love?” The endearment calmed Alex down before, perhaps it’ll have the same effect.

Alex’s breathing is still erratic at first, but eventually he tries to match John’s deep breathing. “See? See, Alex, you’re doing wonderfully. Just keep breathing.”

John isn’t sure how long they sit like that, Alex shaking gently in his lap while John tells Alex he’s safe and breathes with him, the thunder booming outside. After a while, John can swear his shirt is slightly wet, and he looks down to see Alex crying softly into it. 

“Alex, are you crying?” John asks gently, which is a stupid question to ask someone who is most certainly crying and wouldn’t even respond to him in the first place.

He rearranges Alex so that Alex’s head is resting in the crook of his neck. Alexander wraps his arms around John, holding on for dear life. John keeps telling Alex that he’s safe, rubs his back comfortingly, breathes with him, wipes his tears away every now and then. But Alex continues to cry, hiccupping occasionally in John’s arms.

“Alexander, Alexander, shh, you’re safe. It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m here, John’s here.”

Alex is _crying_ and panicking and there’s nothing John can do except hold him and talk to him, though for all he knows his sentiments are falling on deaf ears. He wishes he could help Alex more, but this will have to do for now. 

He lets out a quiet whimper, and John massages his scalp gently. “Nobody can hurt you, Alexander, I promise.” 

It takes a while, but Alex’s whimpers stop and his crying slows down eventually, he stops shaking so hard and just stays in John’s arms, limp. 

“Alexander? How are you feeling?”

Alex doesn’t respond for a while, just breathes deeply while he clings onto John. “John.” He finally says. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe, I’m here.” John responds. He continues breathing with Alex, in and out, in and out. 

Alex nods slowly, but doesn’t move. His breathing starts to even out. 

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” John asks, trying not to overwhelm Alex with questions but also wanting him to have everything he needs.

“Tired.” Alex mumbles. 

John slides down from his sitting position so he’s lying down, Alex still lying on his chest. He feels around blindly for the blanket and pulls it over them. Alex starts fidgeting and for a second John thinks that _shit, Alex is going to leave and they’ll be on separate sides of the bed again_ but instead Alex just burrows into his side, curling into him. John turns around so he’s lying on his side and places one arm around Alex. He’s afraid that it’s too forward, but Alex warms right into the touch. 

“Goodnight, Alex.” He says softly. But Alex is already asleep.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a l l f l u f f lmao

John wakes up with an armful of Alexander Hamilton, and he thinks he may be the happiest person in the world. 

Alex is curled into his chest, one of his hands holding onto John’s shirt. His breathing is soft and even. John’s arms are wrapped around him, protecting him. He’s so small, so dependent on John. And just the fact that Alex is curled in his arms while he sleeps, entirely trusting and limp in John’s arms. 

John could stay like this forever. Holding Alex, protecting Alex from everything. This, he figures, is bliss.

After a while, though, he realizes that he should probably do something productive instead of wallowing and pining, so he carefully separates himself from Alex and sneaks into the kitchen to make breakfast.

“John?” Alex screams after a while, sitting up in bed. 

John emerges from the kitchen, holding a bowl of some sort of mixture in his hands. “Alex? Alex, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

Alex looks up. “John?” He asks again, his voice gentler.

“I’m right here, you’re okay. I was just making breakfast. Come into the kitchen with me?” John says, walking over to Alex and holding his hand out. Alex takes his hand and walks with him into the kitchen.

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes.” John replies, depositing Alex on a chair and flipping a pancake on the stove. 

Neither of them speak until John finishes cooking. John tries to place the blame on the thought that Alex just woke up and he’s probably too tired to start a conversation. John slides Alex’s plat across the table. They eat, for the most part, in silence.

“Alex?” John asks, noticing that Alex hasn’t touched his breakfast.

Alex looks up from where he was playing with his fork.

“Can we, uh, talk about last night?”

Almost immediately, Alex recoils from the table so he’s sitting upright in his chair. “Look, I’m really sorry about that, and I promise it won’t happen again, it wasn’t a big deal, I’m really sorry-”

John shakes his head and Alex stops talking. “No, Alex, don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m not mad at you.” _I could never be mad at you._

“You aren’t? Why did you want to talk about it?” Alex asks, confused. Oh. Alex. 

“Because I want to help you.” John says.

“What?” He’s still confused. He isn’t used to people helping him. Oh, Alexander.

“I want to help you so you don’t panic as much when it storms.” John explains. “That is why you were nervous, right?”

Alex nods. “I was seventeen.” 

“Seventeen when?” John asks. “If you’re comfortable saying.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. There was a. Uh. Hurricane. On St. Croix. And uh – by that time, you know, I was already an orphan. And there was nobody. And god damn it, John, everyone… so many people died. It was… god. It was horrible. And I didn’t die. And every time it rains – every time it rains, you know. I panic.” His voice is shaky.

“Is there any way I can help you?” John asks. “Besides, you know, stopping all precipitation? Which I would do, if I could. But I can’t. So.” 

Alex looks down. “You did.”

“What?”

“Help. You did help.” He looks up. “It was… it was better with you there. Better than it ever has been.”

John nods. If _that_ was better than every other storm, then Alex’s anxiety must be really bad. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Not really. I mean, you’ve done so much.” John makes a mental note to stay with Alex every time there’s a storm. “You don’t have to stay with me every storm. I know I’m a burden.” Alex says, like he read John’s thoughts.

Oh, Alexander. “Oh, Alexander.” John tells him, placing his hand on Alex’s. “You are not a burden. Nothing you could ever do would make you a burden. You’re my best friend, Alex. I want to help you.” He stops just short of _I love you_. 

Alex looks down again. “You’re just… you’re just _saying_ that. Ever since this whole fake dating thing started, I’ve been a burden. I started it in the first place, and then when I thought you were dead, and you always have to worry if I’m eating and sleeping, and they made you come get me at the White House, and now this. I’m so damn _needy_ , John.” 

“Alex. Look at me.” John says gently, waiting for Alex’s gaze to meet his. “You aren’t a burden and you are not needy. You are a human who needs people to help them sometimes. It’s okay to need a little help. It’s okay to rely on other people. I’m your friend. I’m going to help you when you need it. I could never think of you as a burden. Okay?”

“Okay.” Alex says.

“Now, come on. Finish your pancakes and then we can watch Netflix all day.”

Alex laughs, though it’s less of a laugh and more of a little amused noise. “You know, if I keep neglecting my work like this I could lose my job.”

John smiles. “First off, Washington would never fire you in a million years. And besides, you did so much work last week that you could probably take a month’s break.”

“Debt plan,” Alex reminds him, his tone light again.

“You have until June. I don’t think a West Wing marathon for a day would kill you.” 

“Fine.” Alex relents, giving John a small smile. 

“See! Fake politics trump real politics any day.” 

 

About half a season of West Wing and an email sent by Alex (“just one email and then I’m done with work for the day I promise”) later, it’s getting late. Alex’s eyes are beginning to droop closed but John can tell he’s trying to stay up.

“Why don’t we go to bed? I’m really fucking tired.” John suggests, though it’s really for Alex’s sake.

Alex nods. 

They get into bed, Alex almost flopping into it, and John allows himself the slim hope that Alex will sleep next to him again. But Alex lies down on the other side of the bed and all his dreams are crushed. John takes a deep breath and tries let it go by saying it’s nothing, but Alex is out like a light and he can’t sleep because what if he was too forward last night and what if Alex really didn’t want to sleep in his arms and what if what if what if. 

John stays awake and stares at the ceiling for a while, waiting for sleep to come. It doesn’t (of course), so he simply waits for something to do.

Alex stirs sometime in the middle of the night, tossing and turning in the bed like he’s having a fit. He starts mumbling something incoherent. John sits up to look up at Alex, who starts talking louder. 

“John?” Alex calls. Oh, shit, he’s calling John’s name. 

“Alex?” John asks gently. “Alex, it’s John, I’m right here.”

He shifts around again, his eyes open this time. “John?” He asks, panting.

“Alex, it’s John. I’m right here.” He says. “Are you okay?” 

Alex nods. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” John tells him. “Bad dream?”

Alex nods again.

John lays back down on his side of the bed and holds his arms open, beckoning for Alex to come closer. Alex, after a second of hesitation, curls back into John’s arms like he did last night. John sets to playing with Alex’s hair until Alex’s breathing levels out, and eventually begins to feel sleepy. He drifts off to sleep with an armful of Alexander. Again. And he couldn’t be happier.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things start to get better, and then they get worse.

Things change after that. Alex starts sleeping curled into John every night, wrapped in his arms and safe. John makes sure to look after Alexander to the best of his ability – stopping Alex from working so he eats at mealtimes, making sure he doesn’t overwork himself, and making him come home if he’s at his office to sleep at night. But Alex seems to be coming home more and more (there’s a tiny little part of John that wonders if he’s the reason why Alex actually sleeps at night now, but it’s a stupid thought, really). 

“Alex, come on, it’s almost midnight. You should get some rest, okay?” John suggests gently. Alex is sitting at his desk, typing furiously, like he always is.

Alex nods. “Okay.” He says, typing faster for a second and then stopping. He yawns.

John sits down on their bed and waits for Alex to lie down before getting comfortable. “See?” He asks, “Sleep is a good thing.”

Alex nods again, already half asleep. John smiles and runs his fingers through Alex’s hair absentmindedly until Alex’s breathing evens out and quickly follows him into sleep.

 

When Alex wakes up, John is already gone. He scowls to himself – waking up in John’s arms has become something he looks forward to (not that he’ll tell anyone that). He stretches his arms about the bed, searching for John but finding nothing.

“John?” He calls. No response. 

“Jo-ohn,” 

He stretches on the bed for a while more before getting up, and eventually places his hand on a little piece of paper. Alex lifts it up and reads it. 

“Alex – went grocery shopping! Some Senate stuff to do later, so I may not be home for a while! Call me if you need anything! –John :D” 

Alexander’s face breaks into a smile almost immediately. He absentmindedly runs his fingers over the words and reads them over and over again. Something about the way John signed his name with the smiley face at the end makes his chest hurt and – oh no, oh shit.

The original giddy feeling in his chest is replaced with dread after he identifies the emotion and pretty soon his hands are shaking. He’s reaching for his phone before he can think of anything else and he’s dialing Hercules. After the first ring, though, he realizes that this is his problem and he shouldn’t be burdening his friends with his problems and he shouldn’t be so needy. He’s always so needy, isn’t he?

“Alex? Alex, are you there?” Hercules asks and Alex realizes he must’ve zoned out.

“Shit. Shit I’m sorry I wasn’t listening.” Alexander says.

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Herc assures. “Are you okay?”

Alex takes a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was just calling to say hello. I haven’t seen you in a while.” He says, hoping it’s a good enough cover-up. 

“Are you okay, Alex?” Herc asks, this time skeptical.

“Fine.” Alexander replies again, but his voice wavers.

“Are you busy? Can you come around to mine and Laf’s place?” Hercules inquires, and it’s evident in his voice that he’s caught on that Alex isn’t okay.

“I’m really fine, you know.”

“I know. I just need some help with something. Clothing designer stuff, you know?” 

Alex can do that. He was roommates with Herc for a while, and along the way he had to help him with ‘clothing designer stuff’ so he picked up quite a lot of knowledge along the way. He isn’t being needy. Herc needs help. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there soon.”

He gets ready as quickly as he can because he figures that helping Herc will take his mind off John. Alex balls up the note and shoves it in his pocket before leaving, just in case. He’s at Herc’s apartment in near record time, moving fast because he thinks it’ll keep his mind off John.

Hercules answers the door the second Alex knocks. “What do you need?” Alex inquires.

“Sit down on my bed and I’ll go get it,” Herc says, but he isn’t holding anything when he sits down next to Alex.

“I thought you needed help?” Alex asks.

“Yeah. I need you to help me by explaining what’s wrong.” Hercules says gently.

“What?”

“Alex, you called me for a reason. Are you okay?”

Alexander hesitates. “Don’t wanna be a burden.” He finally admits. “I’ve been being really needy recently… it’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“Alex. You aren’t needy or a burden. Sometimes people need help or they need to be comforted, and that’s okay. Nobody’s annoyed at you for needing help, okay? Now come on, please tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” 

“Okay.” Alexander exhales. “As a prerequisite, though… John and I aren’t actually dating.”

Herc nods. “I know.”

“What? Who told you?”

“Laf, weeks ago. John told him, and he told me the next morning.” 

Alex scowls. “That’s not fair! I had to hold this secret from you for weeks, and he told Laf!” Hercules laughs. “So uh. The problem.”

“What’s wrong? Did someone find out?”

He shakes his head. “I… no. It’s. Uh. Me. And John.”

Hercules smiles gently. “Alex, you’re my friend and I love you, but I’m going to need you to explain before I can help you.”

Alex hesitates. He waits for a few seconds while he thinks of what he’s going to say before he realizes that he can’t say anything. He shouldn’t be saying anything. This is… stupid. He shouldn’t be feeling anything about John. He shouldn’t have gotten close to John in the first place. He can’t depend on John, he can’t depend on _anyone_ because they’ll just die and go away and he can’t have that.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Alex chokes out as he stands and leaves the apartment as fast as he can. 

Hercules gets up a second after Alex, but Alex is already running down, down, down the flights of stairs of his apartment building and he can’t chase after him. He calls Alex twice, but he doesn’t pick up either time. 

From: Horsefucker: is your ‘boyfriend’ okay??

From: JLaw: ?? What happened

From: Horsefucker: are you at your apartment? Is he at your apartment?

From: JLaw: I have no clue what you’re talking abt

From: JLaw: I’m at the grocery store ??

From: Horsefucker: alex isn’t okay

From: Horsefucker: he just ran out of my apartment n isn’t answering the phone

From: JLaw: shit shit shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry lmao


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Hercules set out to find Alexander.

This is the second time since “dating” Alexander Hamilton that John has had to leave his grocery cart in the store and run outside. He dials Hercules as soon as he’s out of the supermarket.

Hercules picks up before the first ring finishes. “Holy shit. What’s going on?” John asks, his voice most likely muffled by the wind.

“It’s Alex. He called me this morning freaking out, so I invited him over so he could vent and I could help him, and he started saying something but then he freaked out worse and ran out. I’ve called him three times and he didn’t answer. Has he contacted you at all? Have you seen him this morning? Is he at your apartment?” Hercules says, the information rushing off his tongue.

John’s cheeks flush when he remembers that he has most certainly seen Alex this morning, curled up in his arms when John woke up. He decides not to tell Herc that, though. “Yeah, I uh… saw him when I woke up, but he was still asleep. He hasn’t said anything to me all day and I’m not home yet so I don’t know.” 

“Are you going home?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. If I haul ass, I can get there in three minutes.”

Herc pauses for a moment, probably mulling things over. “Call me back when you get home. If he’s there, we’ll work things out and help him calm down. If he’s not, well. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

John nods. “Okay. Tell me if he comes back to yours.” He hangs up.

John runs all the way to his apartment, hoping that Alex will be there, but he knows in the back of his mind that he probably isn’t. Alex is… he’s probably going through some shit right now, and he’s completely clamming up when it comes to talking about it. John’s been trying to coax him through it because he thought that they’d gotten past the stage of friendship when they had to hide their feelings from each other. But Alex has been pushing him away, claiming he’s a burden (but Alex, oh, Alex, you could never be a burden) and it’s left John completely torn up inside. 

John throws the door to their apartment open. “Alex?” He calls, to no avail.

Alex isn’t home. Of course he isn’t home. 

John redials Hercules. “He isn’t home. Is he with you?”

“Nope, sorry.” Herc responds. “Where are we going to look?”

“I was thinking you could check his law office and then Burr’s and I could check the White House?” John suggests.

John can almost hear Hercules pout through the phone. “How come you get to check the White House?”

“I’m a senator.” John laughs. 

“Fine. But only for Alex’s sake.” Hercules relents. “Have you tried calling him?” 

“Not yet,” John answers. “I can try, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.” 

“Alrighty. Listen, John, he’s going to be fine, okay? I can tell you’re stressing about it, and Alex might be a little fragile and shaky, but he’s the strongest person we know. He’s made it through so much shit, I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Herc says.

“I know,” John responds, heading out the door once again, “I just don’t want him to go through all of this alone.”

Hercules pauses. “And, uh, John? When you see Alex, maybe tell him how you feel?” 

“What?”

“Please, John. I’ve been watching you and Alex pine for each other since you met, and it’s only gotten worse since you started faking this dating thing,” Hercules laughs.

John hesitates. “What – I – uh, what?”

“It’s okay, I’m not going to tell anyone. But really, you pounced on each other already, so I don’t see what’s holding you back.”

“I - Okay.” John says.

“Now, come on. We have to find your man so you can ask him out.” Hercules says, a hint of playfulness in his voice even though they’re both really fucking scared.

John nods. He tries to ignore the jumpy feeling in his chest when Herc calls Alex his man and starts walking to the White House.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the end- i have no idea how politics work let me have artistic license

John shows up to the White House and starts searching for Alex, to no avail. He isn’t in his office, or the Cabinet Room, or… anywhere, really. He’s debating if he should go to the president and ask for Alex when an intern taps him on the shoulder.

“Uh, Senator Laurens? The president would like to see you.” The intern says timidly. 

John turns around. “Where is he?”

“The Oval Office, sir.” 

John nods and makes his way to Washington’s office. He should probably be worried that the president wants a private audience with him, but it doesn’t faze him much. He’s known Washington for a while. Alex is even closer to him, to the point that Washington is some sort of pseudo-father figure to him, no matter how much Alex denies it. Both he and Alex helped Washington on the campaign trail. 

“Sir? You wanted to see me?” 

Washington beckons for John to sit down and he does. “It’s about Alexander.”

Everything inside of John freezes. “Is he okay?” He chokes out, immediately assuming the worst. If the president wants to talk to him about Alex, it has to be bad news. 

“That’s precisely what I was going to ask you.” Washington says.

“What?”

“He just came here a little while ago and immediately requested to speak to me about neutrality with France. Maybe I’m reading too far into things, but he was acting in that erratic way he does when he’s nervous. Is he okay?” Washington asks. The president really does care for Alex. If only Alex accepted his care instead of shying away from him.

John nods. “He’s, ah, he’s going through some stuff, I think? I’m trying to help him, but every time I try he pushes me further away. I came here to look for him.”

“He told me about that, actually. After he finished talking about France, he told me to tell you not to look for him and that he needs space.”

“Do you think I should really give him space or should I try to help him?”

Washington looks apologetic. “I don’t know, John. He’s Alex, it’s hard to know things when it comes to him. But if he keeps pushing you away, it might be best to give him the space he needs until he can figure things out. He’ll come around eventually. He loves you.” He really does sound like Alex’s father.

John has to stop himself from telling Washington that no, they aren’t actually dating. “Do you know where he is?”

He nods. “He told me he needed some space when I asked him what was wrong. So all I’m going to say is that he’s safe. He’ll come around when he’s ready.”

John must not look entirely convinced, because Washington adds, “Besides, there’s a mandatory cabinet meeting about France tomorrow, and we already know Alex is giving a speech.”

“Thank you, sir.”

 

John calls Hercules as soon as he gets out of the White House. “Did you find him?”

“No,” Herc says, “not even anything that made it look like he’d been there. You?”

“Washington told me that he knew where Alex was, but Alex needed, and I quote, some space, and that he’ll come around when he feels like it.” John sighs.

“You think we should listen to him?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell if he really needs space or if he really needs someone to talk to.”

“But isn’t he going to be arguing about France with Jefferson soon?” Herc inquires. “Won’t you see him then?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Hercules pauses. “Okay. So we’ll wait for him until then, let him think about things and sort through whatever it is he’s going through. Maybe he’ll come back to your apartment. If he doesn’t, he’ll be at the cabinet meeting. And if he’s not, that is when we flip shit.”

John laughs. 

 

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Alex doesn’t show up anywhere or respond to anyone’s texts. It takes John a while to fall asleep since he’s so worried about Alex, but he finally nods off at around three in the morning. He wakes up to way too many texts.

From: Baguette Fondler: merde john check cnn

From: Horsefucker: check cnn holy fUCK

From: Ew: Check CNN if you haven’t already

From: Ew: Does Hamilton have a death wish?

From: Garbage Can: Laurens, I’m going to kill your boyfriend

From: Madison: Please get your boyfriend in check before Thomas slaughters him

From: Baguette Fondler: I know you’re probably asleep but cnn. It’s important.

John sits up immediately and fires off a text to Herc and Laf.

From: JLaw: the fact that I’ve become used to that phrase is kind of concerning

From: Baguette Fondler: that’s called the Alex Effect 

From: Horsefucker: have you seen it yet? Because holy shit

From: JLaw: what did alex do 

From: JLaw: is he okay??

From: Baguette Fondler: oui, he is fine now

From: Baguette Fondler: when Jefferson gets through with him, on the other hand, 

From: JLaw: Jesus Christ 

John pulls up a new tab on his phone to check the news, wondering what Alex could’ve done that was so bad that Burr, Jefferson, and Madison all texted him about it. When he finally finds the article, he isn’t sure if he should laugh or shake his head.

_Secretary and Senator’s Alleged Love Affair_

Washington (CNN) – That’s right, you aren’t seeing double. Treasury Secretary Hamilton and New York Senator Laurens’s dating announcement in early December shocked the nation. But is there another couple in our government?

CNN has heard from a source that wishes to remain anonymous that Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson and Virginia Senator James Madison have been in a relationship for years. The source did not give out much personal information, but informed CNN that they have been working closely with the pair for years and it is “hard not to notice” that they are in a relationship. When asked for specifics, the source said that the two “have been together since before Washington became president. There’s a reason they’re always seen next to each other.” The source admitted to being “surprised they hadn’t come out already.” 

When confronted about Secretary Jefferson’s disdain for openly-gay Hamilton and Laurens, the source said that Jefferson was “only trying to save his skin” from his political party. Both Secretary Jefferson and Senator Madison have declined our request for comments.

Speaker of the House Frederick Muhlenberg told CNN that the government “likes not to meddle in the personal lives of our representatives.” When asked about how people should respond to the sexualities of our representatives, he stated, “It doesn’t matter what they identify as so long as they are good politicians. [Secretary Jefferson and Senator Madison] have been vital parts of our government since President Washington was sworn into office. Regardless of their relationship, they’ve still worked hard and will continue to work hard to keep our nation running.” 

 

From: JLaw: so you think it was Alex ??

From: Baguette Fondler: who else would it be

From: Horsefucker: if there’s one thing alex wants, it’s to annoy Jefferson

From: Horsefucker: who else would it be ??

From: JLaw: that’s true

From: JLaw: at least hes okay 

From: Baguette Fondler: has he said anything to you today

From: JLaw: no

From: JLaw: you ??

From: Horsefucker: no

From: Baguette Fondler: non

From: JLaw: damn 

From: JLaw: do you think he’s okay

From: Horsefucker: aren’t you seeing him at the cab meeting today

From: JLaw: shit

From: JLaw: that’s in two h o u r s

From: Baguette Fondler: ??

From: JLaw: I have to think of what im going to say to him

From: JLaw: what if he hates me

From: Baguette Fondler: quite the opposite, mon ami

From: Horsefucker: hes fucking head over heels for you

From: Baguette Fondler: et vous êtes aussi

 

From: JLaw: ok fuck off @laf

From: Horsefucker: stop speaking French I don’t know it

From: Baguette Fondler: Apprenez, mon ami

From: Horsefucker: : ( 

From: JLaw: get a room, you two

From: Horsefucker: I am offended

From: Baguette Fondler: you and alex are the ones who need a room

From: JLaw: but are we the only ones? No

From: JLaw: you also need a room

From: JLaw: for the rest of your lives

From: Baguette Fondler: do you not have a cabinet meeting to get to

From: JLaw: oh shit 

John sets his phone down. He doesn’t need over an hour and a half to make himself presentable, but he needs this time and all the time in the world to think of what he’s going to say to Alex. He has absolutely no idea what to say – or even what he wants to say. No, he knows what he wants to say – he wants to say that he loves Alex, but that’s insane. Alex doesn’t love him. Alex wouldn’t avoid him like this unless he hated him. 

John sighs, gets ready, and drags himself to the White House. 

When he arrives at the Cabinet Room, Alex is already there, but he’s deep in the middle of a conversation with Washington. He’s waving his arms around frantically, ranting, while Washington just stands to the side and nods. Thank god Jefferson isn’t here yet, or they’d already be arguing. 

John busies himself at his laptop, trying to distract himself by getting some work done, not that it works. Jefferson arrives eventually and almost immediately starts fighting with Alex. Washington, who is probably way too tired of their shit, calls the meeting to order and introduces the issue at hand. 

Jefferson, ever the terrible public speaker, delivers a speech that lasts less than fifteen minutes and draws almost entirely on America’s past with France. He concludes with a slightly compelling (yet still weakly delivered) call to action. Several people clap, though Jefferson would’ve been much better if he had just written his argument down.

Alexander, on the other hand, is practically bouncing with anticipation as he stands up at the podium. He speaks for a little over an hour – it’s one of his shorter speeches, really. When he’s done, John can’t tell if people are clapping because they enjoyed Alex’s speech or if they’re just really happy it’s over. 

Washington, who had prefaced the meeting by saying he had the only say in this matter, makes his decision fairly quickly. He chooses to remain neutral no matter what Britain and France decide to do, which is technically siding with Alex, though he pretends not to have taken anyone’s side (he was totally siding with Alex, who is he kidding). 

Alex stands and is about to leave when John stops him. “Alex, wait.” He pleads.

Alex stops moving and waits for John to catch up with him. For once, he doesn’t say anything, only looks up at John. 

And then – “Hamilton.” It’s Washington.

“Coming, sir,” Alex responds, starting to walk in the opposite direction, towards Washington.

“Alex, wait. Please.” John says, nearly reduced to begging.

“I have to go. The president wants me.” Alex answers, but he glances at John and John can see how pained Alex’s face is. “Come with me?” He offers, and John nods immediately.

“Thank you,” John says and they walk to Washington’s office together. Washington shoots John a questioning look, as if asking if Alex is okay. John shrugs.

“Secretary Hamilton. Senator Laurens.” Washington greets.

“What do you need, sir?” Alex asks, clamping his hands together and standing at attention.

“I wanted to talk to you about the issue of neutrality with France.”

“But sir, didn’t we just solve that?” Alex inquires.

Washington hesitates. “ _We_ might have, but the nation is torn in two over the issue. There is no right way of doing this, and we have to find a way to please everyone – or at least, distract them – so we don’t have treason on our hands.”

Alex thinks for a moment. “Are we – John and I – a distraction?”

“Your relationship? I suppose.” It’s evident that Washington has no idea where Alex is going, and, honestly, neither does John. 

“We could get married.” Alex says.

“ _What?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not sorry


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and John have an argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days because I can't contain myself

“ _What?_ ” John exclaims, at a total and complete loss for words. He stares at Alex, taken aback, before he realizes they’re supposed to be dating and tries to compose himself.

Alex fumbles for an explanation. “I – um – well. We’ve been together for eight years and I’d be lying if I said we never considered marriage and the only thing holding us back was that we weren’t publicly official yet and then after we were official it seemed to be too soon to get married and I mean I could see why you wouldn’t want us to but it’s just a suggestion sir.” He rambles. 

Sometime during Alex’s ramble John recovers well enough to start thinking like a normal human and fakes a pout. “You’re proposing to me in the Oval Office?” 

“Well, it was just a suggestion –”

Washington cuts them off by clearing his throat. Both John and Alex jump slightly. “The Secretary of the Treasury and a Senator of New York getting married would definitely distract citizens from fighting over neutrality with France, if that’s what you’re asking.” He looks between them with a slight smile.

John mentally smacks himself _you’re supposed to be happy, he just proposed_ and breaks into an artificial grin. He does the first thing he can think of, which is throwing himself into Alex’s arms and kissing him. Alex is startled at first but then kisses back and John’s stomach flips over itself. Even holding Alex is enough to drive him insane but _this_ \- he doubts there is a feeling in the world that compares to kissing Alexander Hamilton.

When he breaks away, John presses his forehead to Alex’s, hoping they look in love enough to be an actual couple. “We’re getting married, baby girl.” John tries out the nickname, partially to see how Alex responds to it, and partially to get back at him for making them have to get married. Alex’s cheeks flush red and – dear god, is he _enjoying_ the name?

Washington clears his throat again and they break apart. “I’m sure the two of you would love to celebrate, but I do think you’d rather do it… at home and not in my office.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Alex groans.

John continues smiling and offers his hand to Alex, who takes it. “I agree. We do have a lot of celebrating to do.” John winks.

“I am being attacked on two fronts!” Alex exclaims, flustered. Washington laughs as the two make their way out of his office.

“I don’t know what in the hell you were thinking –” John begins.

Alex looks pained. “John, look, _please_ , I can explain, just let us get back home first, I am so sorry, I…”

Neither of them speak until John unlocks the door to their apartment. “You have a fuckton of explaining to do, Alex.”

“Fuck, I know, I know, shit.” Alex says, standing against the wall of their bedroom, almost like he’s leaning on it for support, and looking even smaller than usual, like he’s shrinking into himself.

John can tell that Alex is starting to get scared, so he calms down. He’s a few feet in front of Alex, close enough to talk to him but not close enough to make Alex feel like they’re arguing. “Alex, wait, I’m not mad at you. I just need you to explain.”

“Well, I mean, Washington wanted a distraction. So I thought – I figured that royal kingdoms in other countries have weddings to distract people when something happens that creates unrest. And we’ve supposedly been fake dating for eight years, so it was only a matter of time before we got married. I just – figured that if we’ve been fake dating for this long, we could pull off getting fake married?” Alex rambles.

“So we’ll be fake dating forever?” John asks, more than a little exasperated. 

“Well, I don’t know. It’s been going so well and we don’t really date around so I figured… and if it doesn’t work out then we can always go with it for a few years and then divorce peacefully and slowly drift apart. No strings attached, nobody gets hurt. We continue to be friends. Done.” Alex suggests. 

John’s trying to keep a calm façade so he doesn’t frighten Alex – Alex doesn’t like yelling or arguing – but it’s hard not to be upset at the fact that now they’re getting married because Alex had to open his mouth. “But _Alex_ , it’s hard enough fake dating, and now you want us to fake marry?”

“It’ll be easy. Just press appearances and things. And then we can have a small ceremony or something I don’t know but nothing has to change except, like, taxes or whatever and we can make this work I promise.”

“But weddings are so much work-”

“It’s all fake! It doesn’t even have to be a real wedding! Everything about it is just fake, so don’t worry, please. It’s all fake, this relationship is fake the wedding is fake. You just have to play along, John, please? It’s all fake.”

John tries to think of something to say, but his mouth works quicker than his mind.

“What if I don’t _want_ it to be fake?” He exclaims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the one. the chapter all of u have been waiting for ;)

“Shit – shit, I, Alex. I’m so sorry – I – shit.” John says, trying to recover for what he just said because _shit_ he kind of just confessed his love for Alex and there is no turning back now.

Alex just stares at John for a moment before finally opening his mouth. John’s heart is beating a mile a minute because he had no intention of confessing to Alex, especially not like this. Alex’s gaze lingers on John’s lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Alex finally asks.

John doesn’t respond, just presses their lips together. Alex doesn’t even seem surprised, and starts kissing back immediately, pulling John closer by the lapels of his suit. John runs his fingers through Alex’s hair, since he remembers it calming Alex down. Alex moans. John smiles.

“Are we doing this?” John has to break away from the kiss to ask, and Alex leans forward, trying to kiss him again.

“Fuck yes we are.” He responds. 

John begins kissing down Alex's neck, smiling when Alex moans, and once again, just like the night this began, he realizes that this is what bliss is. This is where he belongs. 

 

Who knows how many minutes later, John is lazily kissing Alex while the latter is splayed out on their bed. John pushes him over gently and joins him, pulling the blanket over them and letting Alex burrow into his side. 

John kisses the top of Alex’s head gently. 

“I love you,” Alex says, looking up and smiling at John, saying the words like they’re delicate pieces of glass and letting them roll off his tongue like he’ll never tire of them.

Damn if Alex saying those words isn’t the most beautiful thing John’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” He replies, kissing Alex again. “Now, sleep. I know you haven’t slept since we saw each other last and you must be fucking exhausted.”

Alex doesn’t even protest, just slowly drifts off to sleep. Perhaps if John wasn’t so tired, he would be freaking out about what just happened. Instead, he follows Alex to sleep.

 

When John wakes up, Alex is curled into his side, sleeping peacefully. It’s similar to the first morning of their “relationship” in the fact that they aren’t clothed, but this time John remembers everything that happened last night and he couldn’t be happier. Alex wakes up a few moments later, looking up at John and smiling.

“Good morning. I love you.” John says before he can stop himself. Not that he would stop himself.

“I love you.” Alex responds, reaching up to kiss John. 

John grins. “Took us long enough to figure this out, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Alex agrees. “We have now, though.”

“Mm.” John says. “We have a pile of shit to work through, don’t we?”

Alex nods. “Are we doing that right now?”

“Not right now. No way.” John kisses Alex again. 

 

From: Baguette Fondler: howd it go with alex?

From: Horsefucker: laf says you wont answer, howd everything go? You ok??

From: Baguette Fondler: neither you nor alex will answer your phones now

From: Baguette Fondler: oh

From: Baguette Fondler: OH

From: Horsefucker: laf thinks youre getting some and im subscribed to that idea too

From: Horsefucker: we’ll back off for the weekend but after that all is fair game

From: Horsefucker: I do think laf will want details, tho

From: Baguette Fondler: as soon as you two emerge from your sin cave, I want all the details ;)

 

“Not right now” turns into the whole weekend. John is utterly amazed that he can keep Alex away from his work for that long, but Alex just grins when John brings that up and says, “well, if I had _known_ you were this good at sex, I probably wouldn’t be working at all in the first place.” 

John laughs. 

They keep each other entertained (to put it lightly) until they’re exhausted. It’s crazy, how John can look at Alex now and know not only that he loves Alex with his entire being, but that Alex loves him back in the same way. 

Sometimes Alex notices how John looks at him (like he hangs the stars in the sky and in dozens of other romantically cliché ways) and he’ll laugh and say, “What?”

And John will just smile and kiss Alex’s forehead. “Nothing.”

“You’re such a sap.” But Alex is grinning.

“So are you, love.” John assures him, and Alex fake pouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just realized that i should probably put my tumblr here cause i havent already, but basically if you want to scream about founding fathers w me my tumblr is infantileetiquette


	19. Chapter Nineteen

The bliss they’re feeling isn’t wearing off at all (good – no, _great_ thing) but Sunday evening and the fact that they have work tomorrow is creeping up on them until it’s right in front of their faces. They’ve put off working through everything all weekend, but starting tomorrow at ass o’clock in the morning they’re going to be thrown into a shitfest of politics and marriage ( _their_ marriage). And they still haven’t really talked about anything (except for some very inappropriate things that we won’t get into). 

“Alex?” John finally bites the bullet when they’re lying on their bed together, fingers intertwined. 

“Yeah?” It sounds like Alex knows what John is about to say.

“Can we, um, talk?” John asks.

“Of course.” Alex says, squeezing John’s hand.

“What are we going to do?” It’s a simple question, only six words, but it holds an enormous amount of weight.

Alex hesitates before responding. “I don’t know.” He whispers.

John nods a few times. “We’ll get to that later, then, I guess.” He says eventually. “First of all, though, are you okay?”

“John,” Alex responds, bringing John’s hand to his lips and kissing it. “Trust me when I say I have never been happier.”

John smiles. “I could say the same, my love. But I was asking about the other day, when you left Herc’s place and didn’t speak to us for a while.”

Alex swallows hard. He probably knew John was talking about that. “I. Uh.”

“Are you okay talking about this?” John inquires, and Alex nods. “Where were you, if you don’t mind?”

Alex hesitates again. “The White House. I was going to stay in my office all night, but then Washington came by and made me eat with him and Martha. He talked to me – smug little idiot, he’d always known we weren’t dating – about some stuff and then made me sleep in the guest bedroom. And then I told CNN Jefferson and Madison were dating.”

“Were you… okay?”

“I was panicking. Because I, uh. Was trying to come to terms with the fact that I… love you.” Alex admits.

John pulls Alex into his arms and presses a kiss on top of Alex’s head. “Oh, Alex. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Alex responds quietly. “It’s not your fault.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” John asks. “You’re still not a burden, okay? I love you.”

“I just… can you promise that you won’t leave?” Alex asks timidly, but then quickly follows up with, “I get it – I get it if you don’t want to be together or if things don’t work out but – but can we stay friends or something? I… please don’t leave.” 

So that’s why Alex has been so distant lately. He’s scared of loving John because he doesn’t want John to leave. _Or die,_ John realizes. Alex had confided to him years ago – when they were still in college, before the fiasco of politics – that so many people he once knew are dead. Scratch that – most people he knew from his childhood are dead, and the rest either abandoned him or haven’t spoken to him since he left Nevis, where he was born. So he thinks he can’t depend on anyone aside from himself.

Because of that, Alexander has a hard time trusting people. He almost broke down when John called him his “best friend” and then had explained to John that it’s difficult for him to trust or rely on anyone because he’s afraid that they’ll leave him. John had promised Alex then that he would never leave Alex, and now, well. Here they are.

“Oh, Alex, darling.” John says, holding him gently. “I love you. I promise I won’t leave you. Ever.”

Alex smiles into John’s neck. “I love you.” He says again.

John laughs. It’s amazing – he’s probably laughed more and generally felt happier this weekend than he ever has before. “I love you, too. And I would be very content to keep repeating that sentence with you over and over, but I think we have a wedding to plan. Our wedding to plan.”

“Oh. Right. That.” Alex pouts. “Are we still on for that?”

“We did kind of tell the president that we’re getting married.” John points out.

Alex nods. “I know, I know. But we haven’t even been on a date yet and now we’re getting married?”

“Alex, I have fucked you on virtually every surface of this apartment all weekend. I think that counts as a date.” 

Alex blushes. “Well, I, uh, yeah, I know.” Rendering Alexander speechless is something John will never get tired of. “And I would most certainly like to do that again sometime. But you know what I mean – a proper date.” 

John smiles. “I know, love, I know. But we have to be valiant men and do our duty to our country by getting married.”

“We just started dating and now we’re getting married? God, John, at least buy me a drink first.” Alex jokes, but John can tell it’s kind of forced. Of course he’s afraid – look at how well marriage (rather, lack thereof) went for his parents. 

John cups Alex’s chin in his hands and brings it up to look at Alex. “Alexander. Listen. I love you. And I know that our… our _relationship_ isn’t very typical, and that we shouldn’t have to get married so soon. Politics suck. They really, really do. But I will promise you that I’ll never leave you, or get tired of you, or think you’re any kind of burden. I love you. I won’t ever leave you.” 

“Promise?” Alex asks, his voice wavering.

“I promise, my love.” 

Alex hums in thanks and rests his head on John’s chest, closing his eyes. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep – god, John isn’t very opposed to that idea either – but it’s only six in the evening and sleeping now would royally fuck up their sleep schedules (even if Alex’s already is pretty fucked up).

John stays like that for a while, thinking _five more minutes like this and then I’ll get up and cook dinner_ , but it’s quite hard to find the motivation to get up when he’s so happy like this. Eventually, though, he decides that enough is enough and Alex’s stomach is grumbling, anyway.

“Alex, honey, how about we get up and make dinner? And then maybe you could a pick a movie for us to watch?” John suggests.

Alex yawns. “Don’ wanna get up,”

“I know. But you need food. And don’t try to say you’re not hungry, your stomach just growled.” John says, smiling.

“Oh. You don’t have to get up just to make me food. I can go without food.” Alex says, saying the words like they’re nothing, like going without food is normal.

John frowns and hugs Alex closer. “Oh, Alex. I don’t ever want you to go without food. I want food, too. But even if I didn’t, I would still make you some, and you still wouldn’t be a burden or a bother.”

Alex nods and stands, either believing John or too tired to argue with him.

“Do you wanna pick out a movie and lie on the couch while I get dinner going?” John offers, and Alex walks over to the couch and buries himself under at least two blankets (John thinks there might be more in his pile). 

John hums to himself as he prepares dinner for Alex, who is now listening attentively to some animated movie on the television. He looks adorable.

“It’s a miracle you’re not watching C-SPAN.” John notes jokingly. Alex has to be one of the only people who watches that channel (and then he gets worked up about whatever the hell they’re debating about and posts his opinion all over the internet). 

Alex pouts. “Hey! C-SPAN is an interesting channel!”

John laughs and heads back into the kitchen. Or, not quite. He just stays there in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, looking at Alex with a lopsided, fond grin.

“I love you.”

 

From: Baguette Fondler: buzzfeed is contacting me about the white house wtf

From: Baguette Fondler: what did you two do

From: Baguette Fondler: oh theyre talking about alex and john and thomas and james and possible other relationships

From: Baguette Fondler: im accepting the interview I need publicity 

From: Baguette Fondler: im not sorry

 

From: Horsefucker: check buzzfeed

From: Horsefucker: laf kinkshamed the entire white house

From: Horsefucker: America is the laughing stock of the world

From: Baguette Fondler: you’re such a drama queen

From: Horsefucker: how am I the drama queen

From: Horsefucker: you called the white house the SIN CAVE OF AMERICA

From: Baguette Fondler: I didn’t shout it I said it in lowercase

From: Horsefucker: so now the headline is “White House or ‘Sin Cave of America’? French Diplomat Tells All” 

From: Baguette Fondler: buzzfeed is clickbaity we all know this

From: Horsefucker: that doesn’t take away from the fact that you called it the sin cave of America

From: JLaw: guys guys its literally 3am

From: Horsefucker: has that ever stopped us before 

From: JLaw: alex is sleeping but I just read the article and LAF 

From: Baguette Fondler: oh yes how are things going with you and him

From: Horsefucker: you’ve been having sex all weekend haven’t you

From: JLaw: yes and its wonderful

From: JLaw: hes sleeping with his head on my chest and I think im dead

From: Horsefucker: the white house really is a sin cave

From: JLaw: we’re not in the white house

From: JLaw: also fuck off if I laugh any louder I might wake Alex up

From: Baguette Fondler: go sin with your man

From: Baguette Fondler: that was autocorrect, I meant sleep, but theyre the same things really

John laughs to himself as he sets his phone down and looks down at Alex, who is sleeping in his arms. They both fell asleep sometime during the second Harry Potter movie and John has just woken up, but Alex remains asleep, wrapped in blankets and grabbing onto John for dear life. John stands slowly and carries Alex to their bed. 

Alex makes a soft noise when John sets him down on the bed, but doesn’t wake up. John smiles and lies down next to him, only for Alex to snuggle right into his side. Later Alex will say that he’s too clingy, and John will shake his head and tell him not to worry. He isn’t too clingy anyway, and him cuddling into John at every chance he gets its adorable, not annoying. 

“I love you.” John whispers into Alex’s hair once more before drifting off to sleep.

 

John wakes up to a loud crashing noise followed by… another loud noise. He makes his way into the kitchen as quickly as he can in case something happened to Alex.

Alex is sitting on the kitchen floor, eyes wide and a bowl on his head. He’s surrounded by pots and pans and looks like he’s about to either cry or scream at the inanimate objects on the floor with him.

“Alex, are you okay?” John keeps himself from laughing just in case Alex is actually hurt.

“Shell-shocked.” Alex responds, sounding a bit joking but also kind of scared.

“Can I ask what you were doing?”

“I was trying to make you eggs. Breakfast in bed.”

John smiles, takes the bowl off Alex’s head, and helps him up. “Nervous?” 

Even John’s scared out of his wits about today. Working out how this marriage is going to happen would be enough to drive him insane, but they’ll also have to deal with Jefferson and Madison, who will be pretty pissed after what Alex said on Friday.

Alex nods. He’s shaking a little.

John helps Alexander make them breakfast – they decide on toast, which is harder to mess up than eggs – and by help, he means he does most of the work while Alex watches and laughs and kisses him. They eat in relative silence, though, because they’re both on edge and they have to go to work today, no matter how long they put it off. 

“Hey, you okay?” John asks Alex while they walk to the White House. 

Alex nods. “I’ll live.”

“Come get me if you’re scared or if anything happens, okay? You’ll be fine, but just in case. You’ll have to call me, though, ‘cause I’m booked with meetings.” John says, pulling Alex in for a kiss in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the White House and not giving a shit what anyone else thinks.

Alex smiles. “We’re in the same building, I won’t be too far away from you.”

“I know.” John says. “I just really like looking at you.”

Alexander blushes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” John responds as they walk into the White House and Alexander is bombarded by five interns.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note - the contact names are the contact names in John's phone since it's his point of view, and then the name that shows up when he's texting is his name in the person he's texting's phone, if that makes sense. So that explains the change in names with Alex and John (but Laf and Herc still have them saved as Hammy and JLaw, so that'll show up in their group chat)   
> i feel like this doesnt make sense but yeah

John works through most of the day, since he’s pretty swamped with all the stuff he’s been putting off all week. He curses himself for thinking he would be able to survive through this pile of paperwork (even if he knows he wouldn’t undo the weekend for the world). 

Alex sends him a text less than fifteen minutes into the day.

From: My Love: I’m going to kill Jefferson.

From: My Love: I hate Jefferson. 

From: My Love: He is the worst.

From: John <3: Why?

From: John <3: are you alright?

From: My Love: He was literally standing right outside my office when I got in! What an asshole!!

From: My Love: He tried to accuse me of telling CNN him and Madison are dating.

From: John <3: but you did??

From: My Love: That’s different.

From: My Love: It’s the principle of the thing.

From: My Love: I stayed anonymous and he STILL blamed me.

From: John <3: what did he say to you

From: My Love: Nothing bad, you don’t have to worry.

From: My Love: Just generally being an ass.

From: My Love: I still have no idea why Washington promoted him to Secretary of State.

From: John <3: he may be an asshole, but he did contribute a lot to the campaign

From: My Love: He’s still an asshole.

From: John <3: I know, love, I know

From: John <3: go do your treasury-ing

From: John <3: ill see you after work :) 

Alex is, of course, still working when John decides to call it a day and wants to head home. Alex insists on staying just a little bit longer so he can finish up _just one more thing_. John laughs and insists on sitting on the floor of his office until he’s done. Then they go home and eat dinner together, watch television and do paperwork, and go to bed (with more than a few kisses and “I love you”s exchanged in between). Rinse and repeat on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, however, Washington calls him in for a meeting after “lunch” (read: “trying to scarf down a sandwich while you continue working” hour). It’s strange that meeting personally with the president doesn’t stress John out much. Ever since helping Washington on the campaign trail, he feels like they’re more friends or acquaintances than president and senator. 

“Is everything okay, sir?” John asks as he enters the Oval Office, finding Alex already there and talking with Washington. There are a few interns standing near them, like they’re taking notes.

“Oh, yes. Nothing is wrong, if you were wondering. We were just about to start planning your wedding.” Washington says, like it’s nothing. Like their wedding is nothing – John does suppose it’s just a political move. Washington beckons to a seat.

John nods and sits down in the seat across from Washington’s desk. He brushes Alex’s arm in greeting. “Afternoon, love.” Alex smiles at him.

“So, um, your wedding.” Washington begins. “Actually, no, your relationship. Have you got that worked yet?”

Alex blushes. “Yes, uh, sir.” 

Washington nods and mumbles something about not being able to reach them all weekend. If it’s possible, Alex flushes even redder. 

“I don’t have much time – fifteen minutes, actually.” Washington says, glancing at the clock. “I just wanted to flesh out your proposal.”

“All due respect, sir, but I know how to propose.” John says with a slight laugh.

“Yes, I know you do. I was thinking more about the press coverage.” Washington admits.

“Press coverage?” Alex asks, incredulous. “Of our proposal?”

“We want to get it out there that you’re getting married.” The president clarifies. “We need someone to let loose a picture of one of you proposing to the other whenever you decide to do that. The press should be able to find it in minutes. And then we have ourselves a distraction.”

John and Alex nod, absorbing the information. John has to admit to feeling a bit like a pawn, but he supposes it must be necessary to keep the nation from breaking apart. It’s weird, that America isn’t a kingdom with royalty, and yet they’re still marrying for the people. He lets it go. It’s not a big deal. He loves Alex, he really does.

“This Friday.” He blurts suddenly, letting his mouth move faster than his brain. “I could propose this Friday.” 

Washington nods. “Excellent. Email one of the interns with the details when you make your reservations and I’ll make sure there’ll be someone with a camera. Thank you, both of you.” He says the words with a touch of finality, as if letting John and Alex know they are dismissed from the meeting.

“This Friday, huh?” Alex says as they walk out of the Oval Office.

“I mean, he needs a distraction and he needs one soon, so…” John responds, attempting to justify his offer. “I’m sorry, I know this is stressful for you, I shouldn’t have made it so soon.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. I understand. And I love you.” He stands on his tiptoes and pecks John on the lips.

“Yoo-hoo, lovebirds.” Someone calls - _Jefferson_. What an asshole. 

“Secretary Jefferson.” Alex responds, his voice reserved – well, as reserved as Alex’s voice can be when he talks to Jefferson.

“Secretary Hamilton.” Jefferson says, his tone equally as cool as Alex’s. “Senator Madison and I would like a meeting with you. It’s important.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “When?”

Jefferson pauses. “…Right now.” 

Alex glances at John and rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you later, then?”

John nods, leans closer to Alex and whispers, “If he upsets you, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay? I will tear him apart.”

Alexander smiles at John, the smallest bit of a smile, and walks over to Jefferson. “What do you _want_ , Jefferson? Make it quick.”

Jefferson smirks. “You’re not going to believe me.”

“More of the fake, shitty rumors you’ve been telling the media about our colleagues?” Alexander scoffs.

“You should talk?” Jefferson asks, “Mr. ‘Anonymous Source’?” 

Alex is about to fire something back when Jefferson cuts him off with a, “Now come on. We have important business to get to, and Madison is waiting.”

“Yeah, waiting to-”

“ _Hamilton._ ”

“Fine. Jesus Christ. I can’t even make a sex joke at work, what kind of life is this.”

“Our work is the _White House_.” Jefferson bites back, and with that they round the corner, leaving John alone in the hallway. 

John shakes his head, trying to clear it of worries. Jefferson would never seriously hurt Alexander, he would just… insult him. A lot. So Alex isn’t in immediate danger. Will that stop John from worrying? No. 

He’s antsy for the rest of the day, wanting to text Alex about how it went but worrying that Alex is busy or even still in the meeting. Alexander doesn’t text him, doesn’t call, nothing. He’s probably busy, John knows this. The meeting was probably about nothing important, and he’s probably back at his desk working his ass off over some lame document. 

At six, John is just too jumpy to get any more work done, and it’s about time to leave anyway. He does most of his work from home anyway, so he decides it wouldn’t matter if he cut out a bit early. He stops at Alex’s office like he’s done the past two days to collect his boyfriend – boyfriend? Yeah, Alex is his boyfriend. Fiancé? Fiancé-to-be? – but Alex isn’t there. John decides to call him.

“Hello?” Alex answers. 

“Alex? Are you okay? You aren’t in your office.”

Alex pauses a second. “Uh, yeah. I came home early, after the meeting with Jefferson.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” Alex responds, but his voice is a little shaky and hesitant.

“Please don’t try to pretend nothing is wrong. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“I. Uh. Yeah.” Alex says.

To say that John hauled ass home is an understatement. He _runs,_ as fast as he can – no, sprints – to their apartment. Something happened to Alex – whether it was Jefferson or not – and Alex is either hurt or upset or panicking and John doesn’t know anything about his situation except that he has to get to Alex and help him. 

John throws the door open. “Alexander? Alexander, are you okay?”


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo everyone!! it's infantileetiquette, i just changed my name ! sorry for any confusion lmao

Alexander is sitting on the floor, still in his coat and shoes and everything, dripping wet. 

Was it raining? John realizes belatedly that yes, it was pouring, but he was too focused on Alex and getting home as soon as he possibly could. John’s coat is soaking wet, too, but Alex is his main concern right now.

“Hello, Alexander, it’s John. I’m right here, and I’m going to help you. Okay?” John says gently, walking over to where Alexander sits.

Alex is shaking like a leaf – either because he’s hurt or cold or scared or panicked – and his hands are wrapped around his knees so hard that his knuckles are turning white. _If Jefferson hurt his Alexander, John is going to tear him limb from limb_. 

“I’m going to dry you off, okay?” John asks Alex. “You’re soaking wet, and I don’t want you to catch cold.”

Alexander nods hesitantly, and John scoops him into his arms. John brings him into the bathroom and lets Alex sit on the side of their bathtub. Alex sways a bit, leaning against the wall. John wraps him in a towel, taking off his soaking wet clothes and drying Alex carefully. Alex doesn’t stop shaking, but at least he’s dry. 

“Now I’m going to dress you, okay?” John asks, and Alex nods again. 

John carries him into their bedroom and dresses him in one of John’s sweatshirts and sweatpants. Alex nuzzles into the sweatshirt, like he’s shrinking into himself. John runs his fingers through Alex’s hair and says he loves him. Alex nods shakily. Upon thinking about it, John undresses himself quickly, getting rid of his own wet clothes and replacing them with a sweatshirt. 

“Do you want to sit on the bed or the couch?” 

Alex points to the bed across the room and John nods, lifting him up once again and carrying him over to the bed. John sits down, propped up against pillows, and cradles Alex in his lap. John pulls the blanket over them.

“Alexander, it’s okay, you’re safe, you’re doing great.” John tells him, playing with his hair gingerly.

Alex takes a shuddering breath and it looks like he’s barely holding back from crying. 

“Shh, Alex, baby, you’re safe, I’ve got you.” 

Sometime after that, Alexander starts crying. The tears start slowly but soon pick up pace, and soon he can’t stop and he’s shaking harder. John’s grip tightens slightly, holding Alex closer to his chest.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, it’ll be over soon.” John says. He wonders if Alex so nervous because of the rain or because of Jefferson. He’ll have to ask when this blows over.

Alex nods. At least he can listen to John this time. He grasps at John’s sweatshirt weakly, trying to pull John closer. John cradles Alex even closer, drawing the blanket up further. “Love, Alex, you’re safe, I love you.”

Alex just buries his head in the crook of John’s neck. John can’t do anything more than whisper sweet nothings and hold Alex while he cries and sobs and shakes and shudders. It reminds him of that first storm in early January, before they had gotten together. It feels like years ago.

“Love, can you breathe with me? In and out, in and out.” John asks, breathing deeply so Alex can follow suit.

Alex does just that, his breaths a bit shaky at first, but they even out eventually. He slumps again John after a while, no longer shaking and breathing evenly. John rubs his back. 

“Are you feeling a little better, love?” John asks, and Alex nods, but gestures to his throat.

“Does talking hurt?” he asks, wondering if Alex was screaming before he got home, or if it just hurts from crying.

Alex nods again.

“Okay. That’s okay, you don’t have to talk. But you’re going to drink some water, okay? Can you stay here while I get you a glass of water?” John speaks slowly and carefully, not wanting to overwhelm Alex.

Alex shakes his head violently.

“Okay, that’s fine. Here, come with me.” John stands, still holding Alex in his hands. He walks to the kitchen slowly and gets Alex water, making sure he drinks a few sips before they head back into their bedroom. John places Alex back on their bed gently, and Alex burrows into his side and curls up in John’s arms.

“Can you sleep, or no?” Alex shakes his head.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Alex nods.

“What movie? I can pull up Netflix and you can type it in.”

“Bee movie.” Alex says, finally speaking. His voice is shaky and scratchy.

John smiles and shakes his head. “You fucking meme.” But he puts it on for Alex.

Alex mouths the opening lines because he can’t speak them. John laughs and kisses him. 

The movie plays on. Alex is still in John’s arms. John kisses his head a few times, and doesn’t pry for information about why Alex was so nervous earlier. He’s curious, sure, but he knows that Alex doesn’t want to talk about it just yet. So he waits for Alex to be comfortable telling him.

About halfway through the movie, Alex reaches out and pauses it. He turns his head around so he’s looking at John. A few minutes pass when they just look at each other. John can tell that Alex is trying to find a way to talk to him about what happened. 

“I’m sorry.” Alex finally says.

“What?” John asks.

“I’m sorry that I’m… like this. That I did this. It’s not fair that I keep breaking down like this and making you take care of me. It’s just… episode after episode with me, isn’t it? The storm and this and running away to stay at the White House and all the other things I’ve done. And you haven’t broken down over anything. I should… I should’ve waited to take care of you before I did this.” Alexander tells him, looking down.

John shakes his head and cups Alex’s chin. “Alexander, love, no. Don’t feel bad about this – about any of this. It’s not your fault that you panic sometimes. And this – our relationship, love in general – isn’t taking turns caring for each other. It’s loving each other unconditionally and always taking care of the other. And I will always love you, always take care of you. I love you, Alex. You’re not a burden.”

Alex shudders in John’s arms and doesn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, he speaks again. “Jefferson.” Is all he says.

“You’re panicked because of Jefferson?” John asks.

Alex nods. “The meeting. I – god. Do you remember Maria Reynolds?” 

“Yeah.”

“And how we were fuckbuddies for a while, like, two years ago? She was nothing but a rebound from Eliza, and you know that – it wasn’t anything more, just… yeah, just fuckbuddies. And then it didn’t work out?” Alex asks. Yes, John remembers that. Alex seems to have left out the part where Maria turned out to be married. And then her husband made Alexander pay him off so that he didn’t leak the story to the press. Alexander didn’t want that – he’s Treasury Secretary, dammit, he can’t be involved in sex scandals – so he paid off the Reynolds and went on his merry way.

“Yes, I remember,” John responds.

“Well, Jefferson found out about that somehow. And since it was two years ago and we started dating eight years ago…” Alexander trails off.

“Shit. Really?” 

Alexander nods. “He told me he’s going to tell the press about the whole Maria thing and he’s going to say that we’ve been fake dating this whole time.”

“Well, I mean, we have. But aside from her, what evidence does he have about us? Surely nothing too condemning. We can just deny everything and say it’s all rumors.” John reassures him.

But Alex shakes his head. “No. He – I don’t know how he did it, but he got someone to hack your phone. And he has texts from you from recently that prove that everything is fake. Well – everything was fake, at least.” 

John’s stomach sinks. “What?”

“It was a conversation with you and Lafayette. You were saying that you wish it wasn’t fake and Laf was saying that we did technically fuck that one night and then you made another comment about unrequited shit. Fuck. Fuck, John, we’re in such deep shit. Again. But this time it’s worse.”

“Shh, shh. Alex, it’s okay. I mean – well, okay, it doesn’t seem that okay. But we’ll find a way to get ourselves out of this. We always do. But for now, just relax and watch the Bee Movie, okay? Drink some more water. We can deal with this in the morning.”

Alex looks hesitant, like he would rather confront this problem right now, probably by writing a ninety page essay about how shitty Thomas Jefferson is. But he relents eventually, either because he’s tired or because he just doesn’t want to face what’s coming to them. Alex burrows further into John’s arms and sighs with content as John presses play again.

“Love you,” Alex murmurs.

John kisses the top of his head.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

When John wakes up, Alex is already typing away at his laptop. 

“Mphf, love, come back to bed. It’s still early.” John says, rolling over in the bed to make more room for Alex.

“I’m working on something.” Alex responds.

“And what is it that’s so important that you can’t cuddle with me?” John asks, pouting. 

“I’m going to call it the Reynolds Pamphlet.” Alex explains. 

“Reynolds? As in Maria Reynolds?”

Alex nods. “I’m going to explain what happened with Maria. And then I’m going to explain what happened with us – what is still happening with us.”

“But Alex, the engagement.” John reminds him. “You can’t just tell everyone that everything is fake – I’m supposed to propose tomorrow!”

“John, either I do or Jefferson will. And I don’t want him to be the one who tells the press about this – about all of this.” Alex says, looking away from his computer and up at John.

“Alexander. They’re going to accuse us of lying-”

“We _did_ lie!”

“Our careers will be ruined! How can you not see this?”

Alex shakes his head. “No, this is the only chance we have at saving our careers! We either own up to it or we’re outed by Jefferson, and then everyone will hate us and think we’re untrustworthy.”

“Alex, we can play it off as misinformation, it won’t be too bad.” 

“Yes, it will be!”

“But what about the wedding? The proposal, the distraction, it’s all gone to hell. Everyone will hate us!”

Alex furrows his eyebrows. He’s yelling now, but then again, so is John. “Everyone will hate us regardless! It’s our word against Jefferson's. I’d rather come clean myself.”

“We could play it off as misinformation, Alex, it’ll be easy. It’s a rumor only a few people have heard, it’s nothing big!”

“Do you even care about our reputations? Our legacies?” 

“Yes, of course I do, but this is not the way to preserve it! You’re – you’re too obsessed about your legacy to see what the right course of action with this is! If you just – thought about it rationally for one second, you wouldn’t do this to yourself – to _us_!” 

Alex scowls. “Look, John, I get that you don’t want me to do this. But I’m going to do it anyway. I can make my own damn decisions, you know.” 

John shakes his head and turns around. “Fine! Write your damn pamphlet and ruin our lives!” He walks out of their apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

John storms off to Laf and Herc’s place to blow off steam before going back home. The rational part of his brain knows he’s going to have to make up with Alex eventually, but he’s still angry. Alex can’t make everything in their private lives a huge scandal. He can’t do this to them – it could ruin their whole lives. John furrows his eyebrows. 

He knocks on the door of Herc and Laf’s place, but nobody answers. He knocks again. John rolls his eyes. He tries calling Lafayette, but Laf doesn’t answer his phone. Excellent.

From: JLaw: hey im having some issues rn and I need to stay at your place for like an hour ?

From: JLaw: youre not home but I have a key so ill be in your apartment thanks

John unlocks the door and walks in, only to find… Hercules and Lafayette on the couch. Doing… things. They don’t even notice him, Lafayette is busy moaning and Hercules is balls-deep in Laf (quite literally). John clears his throat.

“John! Holy fuck!” Hercules says. He looks up at John, but doesn’t move. Lafayette moans again. 

“I knocked and called _and_ texted both of you. I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

“We were kind of busy,” Herc explains, making no effort to move from his position and instead moving faster, reaching under Lafayette to do something that John really doesn’t want to think about.

“I can tell.” John says, slowly backing up. 

“What’s wrong, though?” Herc asks. He leans over Laf and whispers something in his ear, proceeding to kiss down Laf’s neck. 

John touches his hand to his temples. “It’s kind of hard to talk to you when you’re, uh.” 

Hercules grins – he’s not even fucking sorry, that little shit.

“Look, I gotta go, I have some… overdue library books.” John says, using the first excuse he could think of and running out of the apartment as fast as he can. 

It’s not even nine in the morning, and John has already had quite a day. 

At least walking in on his two best friends fucking was enough to distract him from his anger. John decides the best thing to do would be to get a cup of coffee – god, he needs some fucking coffee – and then head home to fix things with Alex. Maybe this pamphlet thing is stupid as all hell, but if anything, he and Alex have to be a united front. Together.

John orders a double expresso, something Alex would normally get. He downs it quickly, probably quicker than someone should, but he doesn’t care. If this is how his day is deciding to go, John might as well be ready for it. If it wasn’t nine in the morning, he’d probably be drinking beer. 

John lingers at the coffee shop for a while, trying to put off going home. He loves Alex, god, he _adores_ Alex. But this is their first official fight as a couple and he isn’t quite sure how to go about it. He just wants Alex happy and safe. That’s all he wants. But when dealing with Alex, it’s hard to have one of those things, let alone both. 

He sucks in a breath and makes his way home. It’s time to face these things. 

“Alex?” John calls, knocking on the door and letting himself in.

Alex is sitting on their bed, and he jumps up as soon as sees John enter the room. “John.” He says immediately. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to fight with you like that over the stupid pamphlet, it’s stupid to even write it, really. You were right – it would just destroy our image.” Alex says, the words tumbling out in a rush.

John is… confused. “Alex, what? Are you okay?”

“Please don’t be mad at me. I – please don’t leave.” Alex sounds more desperate now. 

“What?” John asks. “No, no. Alex, love, I’m not going to leave you. We just had a disagreement, okay? I’m not mad, we’re not breaking up, we’re fine. I was coming here to apologize to you.”

Alex looks like he doesn’t understand.

John leads him to their bed and sits down next to Alex. “Are you okay? Can you explain how you’re feeling?”

“Confused. Because I thought you were mad that we got in a fight. And because I don’t know if I should write the pamphlet. Scared. Because I love you. Want you to stay.” Alex mumbles the last few sentences.

John hugs Alex to his chest. “We had a misunderstanding, love. All couples do. And I’m sorry I stormed out. But I’m not mad at you, okay? I love you. I’m never leaving you.” He says. “But I still think you shouldn’t write the pamphlet. I understand why you would want to. But I don’t think we need concrete evidence like that against us. Of course, I’ll support you no matter what you do.”

Alex nods. “How do you feel?”

“Nervous that you might still be mad at me.” John answers honestly. “Concerned, because I don’t want you to be upset but I also don’t want that pamphlet out there. Scared about what Jefferson will say about us.”

Alex shakes his head. “I’m not mad at you. God, I could never be mad at you. And I’m not upset. I don’t think I want the pamphlet out there, either. If it’s any solace, I’m also scared shitless about Jefferson.” 

John lets out a laugh. 

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just – damn. I’m not even sure why I’m even laughing, we’re in such deep shit. Maybe that’s why I’m laughing. None of it makes sense. And Herc and Laf, shit. And Jefferson is so damn petty.” John says, shaking his head.

“Jefferson, petty? That’s like saying water is wet.” Alex gasps sarcastically.

John smiles.

“But what were you saying about Hercules and Lafayette?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. Well. I went to their place to blow off some steam after I stormed out. And they were in a compromising position. Actually – yeah, no, I’m just gonna say it. They were fucking.” 

Now it’s Alexander’s turn to laugh. “Hercules and Lafayette? Together? ‘Bout damn time.”

John grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this count as a happy ending? idk but it does get happier 
> 
> //and then it gets a fuckton worse ;)


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alexander Hamilton, will you marry me?"

Friday rolls around too quickly, and with it comes the day of their engagement. 

Both Alex and John know what day it is when they wake up, but neither mention it. They go about their day, pretending that it isn’t going to happen. At six, John cordially invites Alex to dinner with him, and Alex accepts. They both wear nice suits and John can feel the small velvet box with the ring in it in his pocket.

The night goes fairly normally. John and Alex order their food and talk to each other, kiss a few times. Alex colors in a kids menu while he waits for their food. An intern sitting a few seats away from them snaps a few photos. John and Alex pretend not to notice.

Finally, it’s dessert time. They order a slice of cheesecake and split it, laughing together. Alex waits for John to get down on one knee. John tries to work up the courage to actually propose (he knows that it’s technically a fake proposal, but he’s still nervous. Especially since, if this goes well, their picture will end up on every news site by tomorrow). 

“Alex.” John begins.

Alex smiles knowingly. “Yes, babe?” 

“I have something to ask you.”

“What is it?”

John gets down on one knee and makes a show of pulling the ring out of his pocket. The intern has seemed to catch on, because they’re snapping pictures of the two left and right. Alex looks at him and places his hands over his mouth in mock surprise and happiness (the latter may or may not be fake, John can’t tell).

“Alexander Hamilton. You are the absolute love of my life. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. I know – I know that things have been shaky recently – what with the press and all that. But there is nobody in the world I would rather spend the rest of my life with. I love you, so, so, much. Alexander Hamilton, would you do me the extreme honor of marrying me?” 

Alexander nods furiously, and there’s tears forming in the corner of his eyes. 

John grins and wraps Alex into a hug. “I love you, baby girl.” John whispers into Alex’s ear.

“I’m crying so fucking hard, fuck you,” Alex responds. 

“Are you going to marry me or not?” John asks.

“Yes, yes, of course I am, a thousand times yes.”

John wipes Alex’s tears away with his thumb and steps back to take the ring out of the box and slip it on Alexander’s finger. “It’s beautiful.” Alex remarks, looking at the ring.

“Of course it is, you picked it out.” John says, laughing.

“I know.” 

John helps Alex, who is a little shaky on his feet, back to where they’re sitting. The intern gives them a nod, as if saying they’ve taken enough pictures. By the looks of it, several others have taken pictures of the proposal. 

“That was fun and all,” Alex says, “but I’m kind of still crying and it’s not stopping.”

John laughs, drying more of his now-fiancé’s tears. “It’s okay, love, we’re getting married. And don’t worry about crying, I’ve just paid the bill, we can leave.”

Alexander nods, pulling his coat on. John smiles.

“We’re getting married.” Alex repeats, once they’re walking home.

“I know.”

Alex is grinning so hard that it looks like his mouth hurts. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Only thing is, we’re about to enter hell.”

Alexander laughs. “Which one?”

“Wedding planning.”

Alex groans. “Can’t we just get the interns to handle that?”

“Look, love, do you want our wedding to be absolutely fucking perfect or not?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you have to help me plan it.”

“I didn’t know you were so passionate about wedding planning.”

“Well, since our wedding is going to be the biggest in the country, yes, I am very passionate about it.” John grins.

“Biggest in the country? We have some expectations to live up to, then, don’t we?” 

“We do indeed.”


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In proposing, Alexander and John accidentally cause a shitstorm.

Alexander and John go to bed that night, blissfully ignorant of the press coming their way. 

They wake up to a shitstorm.

 

From: Baguette Fondler: HELLO? CARE TO FUCKING EXPLAIN

From: Horsefucker: YOURE GETTING MARRIED? WHAT

From: Baguette Fondler: YOURE GETTING MARRIED AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US BEFORE YOU PROPOSEd

From: Horsefucker: THE PRESS KNEW BEFORE WE DID I AM OFFENDED

 

Secretary and Senator Duo Getting Married? – CNN Politics

Washington (CNN) - Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, United States Secretary of the Treasury and New York Senator respectively, made news back in December with the announcement that they have been in a relationship for the past eight years. Last night, they decided to take their relationship to the next level with a proposal.

The picture attached was sent to us by one of President Washington’s interns. They also informed us of the news. “Last night, Sen. Laurens proposed to Secretary Hamilton at Rose’s Luxury in Washington, D.C. Planning for their wedding will begin shortly.” 

CNN also reached out to a spokesperson for President Washington, who gladly commented on this event. “The President supports [Laurens and Hamilton] fully. He extends his utmost congratulations to the couple and hopes the rest of the U.S. will, as well... As much as this wedding is about Laurens and Hamilton, it is a victory for the LGBT community.”

Thomas Jefferson, U.S. Secretary of State, also had some remarks on the big news. “[Secretary Hamilton] has made a very stupid move with this proposal.” He says. “Workplace relationships in general have a tendency of going poorly. This is the government… [which] makes America a functioning country. Laurens and Hamilton are treating our nation as something trivial by placing their relationship in front of work. Not to mention the fact that marriage between two men is unnatural…” Secretary Jefferson continued to use expletives that are not fit for our news site. 

 

Missed Call [2] from POTUS

You have [1] new voicemail from POTUS

 

From: Horsefucker: Jeffersons being a dickbag again

From: Horsefucker: then again when isn’t he

From: Horsefucker: hes such an asshole smh

 

From: Baguette Fondler: new drinking game

From: Baguette Fondler: take a shot every time cnn writes an article about you and alex

From: Baguette Fondler: more like Fastest Way To Get Alcohol Poisoning

From: Baguette Fondler: also Im still pissed youre getting married and you didn’t tell me first its very offensive

From: Baguette Fondler: your fave is problematic: you and alex for not FUCKING TELLING ME ABOUT THIS

 

From: Horsefucker: okay now Lafayette is literally screaming about you two not telling us anything about your wedding

From: Horsefucker: but I agree with him you should’ve told us omg guys

From: Horsefucker: youre literally getting MARRIED and you didn’t say anything! The nerve

 

John wakes up to Alex in his arms, smiling in his sleep. John doesn’t move, just stays there with his arms wrapped around Alex, content. Alex wakes up eventually, though, but he doesn’t move either. 

“Good morning, love.” John says.

“Good morning.” Alex responds, nuzzling his head into John’s neck. “I don’ wanna get up.”

“Trust me, love, neither do I.” John laughs. “But it _is_ Saturday…”

Alexander nods. “I like what you’re alluding to.”

John smiles. “However…” 

“Aw, god damn.”

“We dropped the biggest bomb on the media since… since we told everyone we were dating. I feel like we at least need to acknowledge it.” John points out. Alex groans.

“You can go handle all the professional stuff and I’ll just stay here and sleep.” Alex decides, but he’s already reaching for his phone. 

John has his in his hands. “Laf and Herc have been screaming at us all night.”

“I think there’s a CNN article about us? Then again, when isn’t there, but still.” 

“Should we say something on social media to say that yeah, we’re getting married?”

Alex is in the middle of nodding when he stops abruptly. “Shit shit fuck, Washington called me twice.” He clicks something and holds the phone to his ear. John shoots him a reassuring smile.

“Your Excellency, sir. Sorry I didn’t – oh. Thank you, sir? I – no we didn’t, sir. Yes, that’s fine. Whenever you’d like to have it. What? So soon, sir? No, no, that’s fine. Yes. Okay. Thank you, sir. I’ll see you on Monday, sir.” Alexander hangs up.

John looks at him expectantly. “So? What’d he say?”

“He said we did an ‘excellent job’ with our proposal and that the press is eating it up – but we know that, of course. And. He, uh, scheduled the wedding? I don’t understand why he’s having it so soon since it’s supposed to be this whole big celebration, but I guess the wedding was always supposed to be a distraction. So it makes sense that we’re having it so soon.” Alexander replies, the words running out of his mouth in a rush.

“When is it?”

“Two months.” 

John shakes his head. “Goddamn. That’s okay. We can pull it off – can’t we?”

“’Fuckin hope so.” Alex mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter until the wedding!! are you all pumped


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

One month until the wedding.

John and Alex are absolutely bombarded by wedding plans for an entire month, and they don’t expect a break anytime soon. Everything from the venue to the color scheme to the cake flavor has to be decided by them, and it is hell (Le Meridien, white and gold, red velvet, in that order). They have to approve the guest list – no, they have to make the guest list. Everything is their job.

“I thought this was supposed to be the biggest wedding in our country.” Alexander complains, while they’re trying to make the guest list. “Why do we have to plan it?”

“We can’t exactly make the president plan our wedding.” John replies. “Now, are we inviting Jefferson and Madison?”

“No. Fucking. Way.” Alex responds.

John shoots him a look. “But Alex. I know you hate them, but we have to be diplomatic.”

Alexander rolls his eyes. “John, I love you, I really do. But if we invite Jefferson to our wedding, I will get into a fight with him. And do you want to fuck me all night or clean my cuts on our wedding night?”

John smiles. “Fine. We won’t invite them. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they show up anyway.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re fucking dickwaffles.” 

John laughs and moves on down the list. “I don’t even know why Charles Lee is on this list, he’s an asshole and I’m still not sorry for punching him in college. He’s not coming… Stevens? We’re inviting him, right?”

One day until the wedding.

“John?” Alexander asks that morning while they drink coffee together.

“Mm?” John is still a bit tired and out of it, but by his next cup of coffee he should be fine.

Alex smiles. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“I know. I can’t wait.” John says, leaning across their kitchen table to kiss Alex’s forehead. 

Alexander laughs softly. “But anyway, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” John can’t help but be a bit nervous.

“You know that I’m not a conservative at _all_. And I’m not traditional or any of that shit. But I was just thinking…”

John smiles softly. “Alexander, don’t worry. You can tell me.”

“You know how couples do that thing when they don’t see each other for, like, the day before the wedding?” Alexander asks.

“We can do that if you want to, Alex. I think it’s cute.” John tells him.

Alex lights up. “You really think so?”

“Yes, of course I do. Unless, of course, you just want to get rid of me.” John teases, and Alex laughs.

“I’d never get rid of you! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Alex exclaims. 

John kisses him again, this time on the lips.

 

“Now, stay safe while I’m gone, okay? If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me, I’ll be like two blocks away. And I mean it, please take me up on that. Also, don’t forget that I love you so, so much. And I’ll see you tomorrow when you walk down the altar.” John says a few hours later.

Alex grins. “You say this like we won’t see each other in weeks. It’s less than twenty-four hours away, you sap.” 

“I know! I’m just telling my wonderful fiancé how much I love him!” John says, making Alex blush. 

Alex shoves John into the hallway. “Shush.”

“Oh,” John remembers. “No parties while I’m gone.”

“You say that as if we have any friends outside of Laf and Herc.”

“That’s true.”

Alexander shakes his head and then stands on his tiptoes to give John a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, love.”

With that, John starts walking off to Laf and Herc’s place. Lafayette answers the door when he arrives. “Are you ready for the sickest bachelor party you’ve ever had?”

“By that, do you mean we’re going to watch Les Mis on the couch and eat pizza?”

Lafayette fakes a pout. “Les Mis is very artistic and I will not stand for you looking upon it with such scorn.”

John laughs. Hercules shakes his head from his place on the couch. “We’ll watch it,” Herc says, “as long as you don’t start crying halfway through ‘On My Own’ again.”

“That was _one time_!” Lafayette insists (it’s happened every single time they’ve watched it). 

Lafayette presses play on the movie and Hercules hands John a piece of pizza, which he gratefully accepts. They watch the movie for a few minutes, but their attention soon drifts away from it.

“So, John.” Hercules asks, “How does it feel to be getting married?”

John laughs. “Scary. You guys know it’s not entirely genuine, right? Like, hell yes I want to marry Alex, but this is all a bit… soon.”

“Hush, John. Everything is going to be fine.” Laf assures him.

“He’s just scared of settling down. Think about it – our John, finally being tied down.” Hercules teases. 

John shakes his head. “Guys, if anyone’s being tied down in our relationship, it’s Alex.” 

Lafayette lets out a hoot while Herc makes an “ew” noise. “John, we really did not need to know that.”

“You guys didn’t need to know that?” John says, nearly choking on his water (what can he say, he parties hard), “Remember that time I walk- actually. We never really talked about that, did we?”

This time, both Lafayette and Hercules groan. 

“So like, I mean. I’m fine with it, as long as you guys are okay. But like, are you …?” John inquires.

Lafayette is the first one to nod. “Yeah. We just… didn’t know how to tell you guys.”

“Well, you both have Alex and my unflagging support, you know.” John says. 

Herc and Laf smile at John, wordlessly expressing their thanks, while Lafayette makes the volume on the movie louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: wedding chapter!! are you all excited i hope so


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the wedding chapter! are you guys excited?

John is woken up by Mulligan and Lafayette at eight in the morning. He knows this because the first thing out of his mouth is a disgruntled “what time is it” and Lafayette responds with a chirpy “eight.”

“Why’re you wakin’ me up so early?” John asks groggily.

“Cher, it’s your _wedding day_!” Lafayette exclaims. Hercules punctuates his sentence by flicking on the lights.

John sits up in bad – rather, on the couch. “Shit.” He says. “Gotta get ready.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Herc says, handing him a coffee. John nods at him in thanks. 

There is silence in the apartment once more as John drinks the coffee. His eyes adjust to the light and he can see that Hercules is already dressed and ready to go. Lafayette is trying (and failing) to comb his hair back, but he’s also dressed.

“I’m getting married.” John states, like he doesn’t believe it. “I’m… getting _married_.”

“Yeah. You’re getting married.” Lafayette repeats, resting his hand on John’s knee and leaving the comb in his hair (it stays put). “Everything’s going to be fine.”

But John’s already nervous. “But what if – what if Alex doesn’t want to get married? What if he doesn’t show up or if we mess up or if protesters crash the wedding and what if it isn’t want Alex wanted and what if-”

“John.” Herc cuts him off. “You’re getting married today and it’s going to be fine. Alexander loves you and you love him. And you’re going to be fine. Look, he already texted you this morning.” He hands John John’s phone.

John takes the phone and flinches at the brightness, but eventually he can see well enough to read the text. 

From: My Love: Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that ’till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. you should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent but as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love I shall notscruple to pardon the fraud you have cmitted on condtion that for my sake if not for your own you will always contine to merit the partality which you have so artully instilledinto me I love you so much  
Youts  
ALex

John smiles down at the phone after he finishes reading. Hercules and Laf are waiting eagerly for him to show them the text, and he does.

“What a fucking nerd.” Hercules says once he finishes reading.

“I love him.” John responds.

From: John <3: Youre such a sap love

From: John <3: I love you

John spends the rest of the morning getting ready, worrying, stressing, voicing his worries to either Herc or Laf or both, rereading Alex’s text, smiling, and worrying. Lafayette insists on doing his hair, even though it ends up looking pretty much the same as it always does (Laf, however, insists that it looks much better than normal). Eventually, though, it’s time to go. Lafayette drives, much to his chagrin, and John gets shotgun because he’s the groom. Herc pretends to be angry that he’s exiled to the backseat but he really doesn’t mind.

When they arrive at the church (yes, church – Washington and the publicity team insisted that since this is such a country-wide event, they do have to be at least a little traditional), John starts freaking out again. He grips Lafayette’s arm as they walk in. Laf turns around.

“Are you okay, mon ami?” Lafayette asks.

“Really goddamn nervous.” John replies.

Laf smiles. “John, you’re going to get married and it’ll be fine, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.”

John nods, somewhat shakily, as if he doesn’t entirely believe Lafayette, and goes off to be diplomatic and talk to some of the people who showed up at the wedding. 

A while later, when the wedding is about to start, John is standing at the altar with Lafayette by his side as the best man (Herc is the man of honor, of course). Hercules walks up the aisle quickly to tell John that Alex still isn’t here. John, to put it lightly, doesn’t take well to that.

“Amour,” Lafayette chides, “John is already stressed enough as it is.” To John, he says, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Alex will show up, I promise.”

But Alex is very much not showing up. Time passes – the clock strikes one, the wedding is supposed to start at one – but nothing happens. John is beyond stressed out and the people in the audience (congregation is the right word, of course, but it feels like John is on stage and they are the audience) are starting to whisper to each other about where Alex is. 

Minutes pass, but each minute feels like an hour and John’s heart is sinking fast. Lafayette reassures him every now and then that Alex is on his way, he’s just late is all, but he’s most certainly coming, but after a while it feels futile. John looks at his watch every minute, or so it seems, as if something will change, but nothing does.

Alex doesn’t come crashing through the door, saying that he’s sorry he’s late and he’ll make up for it, he promises, like John hopes he will.

At 1:19, John’s phone vibrates in his suit pocket. John reaches for it and Lafayette shoots him a look that says _you’re getting married and your phone is in your suit pocket_ but John disregards him. 

The text is from an unknown number. 

It’s a picture of Alex sitting in a chair – no, tied to a chair. His hands and feet are bound to the chair and he’s gagged. There’s a bruise on one side of his face and… he’s wearing a suit, the suit intended for their wedding, but the white button-down is almost entirely soaked with blood… Alex’s blood. 

The caption reads “we have your fiancé. Don’t think you’re getting him back without a price.”

John feels like he can’t breathe. His insides are twisted. Lafayette reaches for his phone to see what all the fuss is about and John lets him take it without a fight. 

Lafayette looks at the picture, gasps, and says what John couldn’t. 

“Alexander was kidnapped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H A H did you guys actually think anything happy could happen in this fic
> 
> anyway  
> if you want to scream at me [herculesmulliganz on tumblr ;))] you can but also scream at mrkarkatvantass because she helped come up w this plot twist


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

John is incapable of feeling. His entire body goes numb and he isn’t quite aware of his surroundings, almost like he’s on autopilot. He’s vaguely aware of Lafayette saying something to him and guiding him down the altar, down the aisle. People are staring and whispering, but it barely registers in John’s mind. It’s like everything is blank. 

Lafayette continues walking until he sees a very confused looking Washington. He hands Washington the phone and maybe Washington gasps or calls for his secret service or something – John can’t concentrate on anything, he doesn’t know what to do.

The next thing John’s aware of, he’s sitting in a chair while people discuss something in the background. Someone – Hercules – hands him a water bottle. John takes it without comment, but doesn’t take a sip.

Eventually, John tunes in enough to hear what people are saying. Washington’s talking, he’s saying something about going back to where it happened.

“The apartment?” Somebody asks. John’s brain is slow, but he figures out that that means his apartment. His and Alex’s apartment.

Washington confirms their statement. “I’ll go. Mulligan, you’re coming with me. I’ll need secret service.”

“Monsieur, would you mind if I came?” Lafayette pipes up.

Washington nods. “Of course you can come.”

John stands shakily. “I’m coming,” he announces, his voice devoid of emotion.

Everyone stares at him, and John wonders if he looks as shitty as he feels (probably). But it’s decided that John can come, since he’s going to come anyway, even if they say no. So John stands and makes his way out of the church while Lafayette holds him steady until they make it into the limo that was intended for Alex and John as a married couple. John swallows hard.

The whole way, John is silent and stoic. He stares out the window and doesn’t move or make a sound. Hercules rests his hand on John’s knee and Lafayette rubs his back slowly. He sighs.

Lafayette helps him out of the limo when they arrive in front of Alex and John’s apartment. It’s so wrong, this is so wrong. Alex is supposed to be with him. He’s supposed to be kissing Alex right now. He’s supposed to have Alex in his arms. John still doesn’t break his façade. 

John steps into the apartment first, with Lafayette right behind him. He stands straight, only walking forward to let everyone else inside. Lafayette smiles sympathetically at him, but Hercules is searching around the apartment for something while Washington watches. 

After what is simultaneously an era and a second, Herc holds something in the palm of his hand and says that he’s found it. He goes for Alex’s computer – dear god, his computer is still on and open, John sucks in a breath – and types some things in before hooking up whatever is in his hand to the computer. 

It’s a video, John can tell that much. A video of their apartment, in perfect picturesque detail. Hercules taps a few keys and the tape fast forwards. It shows Alex, his hair still slightly damp (he must’ve just gotten out of the shower) as he buttons up his suit. And then there’s a knock – no, a crash – at the door and Alex jumps back in fear, letting out a yelp.

Someone – two people charge in. They’re dressed entirely in black, like stereotypical robbers, and they go right for Alex, who screams again. This time he’s screaming John’s name, screaming for help.

Everyone in the room turns to look at John except for Hercules, who now has a small notepad out and is taking notes on the video. But John’s eyes are glued to the screen. He can only watch as the men try to hold Alex back but Alex retaliates. Alex, god, he might be powerful, but he’s too small to fight two men who are well-muscled and almost a foot taller than him. 

The whole time, the whole fight, Alex doesn’t stop calling for John. He tells John how much he loves him while they slash his chest with a knife – that must be what the blood all over his button-down was from. Alex doesn’t stop fighting or screaming the whole time. That is, until Alex is ripped out of the frame by the two men and the only thing to be heard is a sickening _thump_ and then the screaming stops. 

John isn’t even aware of it, but soon he’s on the floor, holding his knees to his chest, and crying. No, not crying, sobbing. He’s held it together for this long, but seeing that video of Alex… it’s too much. He can hear Alex’s screams as they replay over and over again in his head, calling for John, begging, pleading for John.

And John breaks.

He can’t control himself anymore, the tears are coming of their own accord now and he can’t hold them back. John shakes with each sob, but after a while he feels hands on him, holding him, and he’s being lifted off the ground and carried to the couch. Lafayette is holding him now, rubbing John’s back while he cries and offering encouragement. 

Alex is gone.

Someone – maybe multiple people – took Alex and John wasn’t even there to stop them. John forgot that he promised he would never leave Alex, _ever_. He broke the promise and now Alex is gone, taken, and probably in pain. God knows what they’re doing to him.

Alex isn’t okay. He was screaming for John to help him and John didn’t. It’s John’s fault that Alex isn’t okay, that Alex is hurting. His Alex, who’s already so hurt on a good day. Now he’s who knows where, all alone, in pain.

John covers his face with his hands to shield himself, because even if Alex is the only thing on his mind, he still has a shred of dignity left. He tries to say that it’s his fault, it’s his fault, but talking is futile; it seems like all he can do is cry. It takes a long time for the sobs to quiet down to crying, but Lafayette is still holding him and everyone else is still huddled around the computer. 

“Would you like to go to sleep, mon ami?” Lafayette asks. “Your bed is just in the other room, I can carry you.”

John shakes his head. “I can’t… can’t be here when he’s not.” His voice cracks halfway through. 

“Okay.” Lafayette responds. “Okay, that’s fine. Would you like to stay over with Hercules and me until everything goes back to normal?”

John nods.

“I’m gonna go pack you an overnight bag, John, okay?” Laf asks. John nods again. 

Lafayette repositions John so that John is still curled into himself but no longer on Laf’s lap. He taps Washington’s shoulder and says something quietly so John can’t hear. Washington nods and walks over to the couch, where John is still crying. He sits down somewhat awkwardly.

John tries to wipe some of his tears away. “Will we be able to get him back?” He asks.

Washington bites his lip. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“For what?” 

“A ransom.” Washington replies. “Has the number texted you back yet?”

John shrugs – gestures are better than using his voice, since his voice keeps cracking and it sounds like he’s crying (which he is) and makes him feel overall pathetic. He nods his head to Lafayette, who still has his phone – at least, he thinks Lafayette has his phone. 

Washington calls for Lafayette to give him the phone and Laf delivers it, then goes back to packing. Washington asks if it’s okay if he checks John’s phone and John nods. There’s a pause while Washington checks something. He swallows hard. John can tell something’s gone wrong.

“Ransom?” is all John says.

Washington nods. “Ten million.”


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Alex's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before we get into anything, i just wanna say that this chapter contains mild violence and anxiety/panicking. anyway, here it is have fun im not sorry

The first thing Alexander is aware of when he wakes up is that there is pain. Everywhere. Everything hurts him. There’s an especially sharp pain coming from his chest. It takes a few moments, but he vaguely remembers people breaking into his apartment and fighting him, cutting him, knocking him out. He groans, but he’s gagged. Oh god, he’s gagged.

The noise earns him a sharp slap to the face. “While you’re here, you’re going to learn to stay quiet. Now shut up and look at the camera. We’ve got to have something to send to your pretty little fiancé, don’t we?” Someone says. 

At the word “fiancé,” Alex looks up. _John_. John can save him. He wants John. John would make the pain go away.

The room he’s in is dark, too dark to see anything, much less look at a camera. But he can tell it’s not home, everything feels too… different. Alex doesn’t know where he is and it makes him want to panic. No, not want to – he is panicking. He strains against the ties, but all that does is make the ropes dig further into his skin.

The camera clicks, and with it, the flash goes on. Alex’s eyes hurt at the sudden brightness, but he can’t move away. Not if this is his only way of getting in contact with John.

“Good boy.” Says the person who spoke before. The phone lights up as the person types something, and then it gets put away. “Now that appearances are out of the way, we can get to the real stuff, huh?”

Alex tenses, his wrists chafing the tough rope tying them back again, and grimacing as it stings. He says nothing, just waits for the person to get closer to him so he can make a move and, hopefully, escape.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you plan on ever seeing the light of day again, I would strongly advise cooperating.” The voice, person, whatever, says. Alexander stays quiet.

The person steps closer, and Alex can hear steps echo on the floor, but he still can’t see. All of a sudden, a blindfold is being tied around his eyes. Alexander senses his moment and he takes it. 

He fights against the person as best he can, which is a bit hard since Alex is tied to a chair and the person is behind him. Alexander rocks the chair back and forth until it falls backwards into the person’s knees. He screams at the same time, calling for help, for John, but the gag muffles his voice.

The person ties the blindfold around him successfully and pushes the chair back into the proper position. “If you’d like to do this the hard way, we can do this the hard way.”

Alex doesn’t stop screaming, however, and his failure to stay silent earns him a hard kick to the stomach. It knocks the breath out of him, and he gasps. Alexander stops screaming, too, because it’s hard to breathe, let alone make any noise. Oh, god, breathing hurts. He tries to regulate his breathing, but it’s hard when his heart is beating at a million miles a minute and every breath sends shocks of pain through him.

“Thought so.” The person tightens the ropes binding his wrists and ankles so that they bite into his skin even more than they used to. Alexander winces. “Now, should I stuff the gag further or are you going to behave?”

Alex responds. Rather, tries to. The gag makes it hard to speak.

“Princess, you’re going to have to speak more clearly.” The person remarks condescendingly. “Now, I’m going to take the gag out of your mouth and you’re going to tell me that you can behave.”

He takes the gag out of Alex’s mouth. Alex pauses for a moment, still catching his breath, and then screams John’s name as loud as he can. He knows there will be a punishment, and he can handle that. He just wants John. 

“Scream all you want, but your little fiancé is never going to hear you, we’re far away from him.” The person says before pressing something into the skin of his arm, just below his elbow, and dragging it down slowly. A knife. Alex hisses at the pain and tries to ignore the sensation of his own thick blood dripping down his arm. “Disobey again and there’ll be far worse than that.” 

Alex does nothing.

“Is that clear?”

He nods.

“I said, _is that clear?_ ” 

“Yes.” 

Speaking, regardless of the fact that he was made to speak, is still forbidden, and Alex receives another sharp kick to the stomach. He doubles over in pain and bites down hard on his lip to keep from crying out. He tastes blood.

The gag is tied back into place.

The person doesn’t say anything more after that.

Everything is dark with the blindfold on, so Alex doesn’t know if the other person is the only one in the room with him. He can’t hear any footsteps, which means he still isn’t alone. Alex has no idea if he’s going to be attacked, lunged at… killed. But he can’t let himself relax, not if he might die at literally any moment. 

Alex’s breaths are quick and shaky and he tries to stop himself from actually shaking. His heart is beating so rapidly that he can hear it, and that alone is enough to scare the shit out of him. Everything feels like too much, but he can’t get out, and there’s nobody to comfort him. There’s no escape. He’s in a dark room somewhere – he doesn’t know where – and he’s far away from home. 

Only, to Alex, home isn’t D.C. anymore. It’s John. John is where he feels safest.

What Alex wouldn’t give to be in John’s arms. He misses John. He loves John.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its like, two am here have this

_Ten million._

The words – along with Alex’s screams - echo through John’s mind for the rest of the day. It doesn’t feel like much of a day – just a blur of tears and crying and numbness and pain. 

John doesn’t say anything after Washington tells him the ransom amount. He just stays sitting on the couch, crying silently into his hands. Eventually someone (Lafayette, maybe) says that the police are on their way and it might be best if they got out of here. One of the secret service guards decides to stay, and so does Hercules, for some reason, but the rest pile out.

Lafayette has his hand resting on John’s back, guiding him from the apartment to the car and then out of the car and into his and Herc’s place. Lafayette places John’s overnight bag down on the floor and John walks over to the couch and sits down. He’s still crying – at least, he thinks he is. Everything is kind of a blur. 

“How are you feeling, mon ami?” Lafayette inquires, sitting on the couch next to John.

John opens his mouth to speak but only chokes out a sob. He shakes his head, as if that’s an ample response to Laf’s question.

“I’m sorry, cher. We’re going to get him back. Alex’ll be okay.”

John wants to scream. Wants to cry and scream and shout about how Alex is _not_ okay and for all they know he’s being tortured right now and how this whole thing is John’s fault, _it’s his fault_. He wants to shout about how his Alex might be dying right now, might be bleeding out, might be experiencing surreal pain. And they can’t do anything to help him – nobody knows where he is or who has him. His Alexander is in pain and it’s John’s fault and he wants to _scream_. 

But he can’t do any of those things. So instead he cries harder, opening his mouth in a silent scream and he sobs quietly into what might either be the arm of the couch or Lafayette, he can’t tell. John is vaguely aware of Lafayette stroking his head and talking softly, saying that he’s sorry and that everything will be okay and some other things that John can’t hear or tunes out.

John’s heart hurts - _aches_. 

 

John isn’t sure how long he stays like that.

Hercules comes home after a while, yawning. He walks over and kisses Laf on the forehead, and Lafayette laughs and gently reprimands him, asking why Herc was so late coming home. Herc says something along the lines of it being a long day of work – which is strange because he wasn’t at work. John pays little attention to this thought, since he has more pressing matters to worry about.

Hercules suggests turning the couch into more of a bed so John can sleep, and Lafayette agrees that that would be a good idea. John stands, almost robotically, and waits for Laf to bring pillows from his and Herc’s bedroom. Hercules covers the couch with a blanket and beckons for John to lie down. John complies. He’s covered by another blanket. 

“Goodnight, John.” Hercules says quietly, brushing John’s hair out of his face gently. 

“Bonne nuit, John.” Lafayette says. “Get some sleep, please. You deserve it.”

John nods (even though he doesn’t deserve it – he’s the reason Alex was kidnapped, _taken_ , he’s the reason Alex is in pain – and yet somehow everyone is being nice to him) and mumbles a goodnight to Laf and Herc.

He wipes his eyes and tries to sleep, tries to roll over on his side and close his eyes, but he can’t. Even if he’s only on the couch and is pressed for space, the “bed” feels empty without Alex to hold (everything feels empty without Alex). And every time John closes his eyes, he sees that picture of Alex with him looking at John desperately, the one that started this whole thing. 

Sleeping is impossible. Everything is impossible.

He must’ve started sobbing again, because pretty soon Lafayette and Hercules emerge from their room and walk back to the couch. John sits up. “Can’t sleep.” He mutters.

“I know, mon ami, we can’t sleep either.” Lafayette says, beckoning John to come and sit next to him. “Would you like to watch a movie?”

John nods and gets up from under the blankets to sit in between Lafayette and Hercules. He rests his head on Hercules’s shoulder and Lafayette plays with John’s hair gently. They ask John what movie to watch, but John just shrugs. 

Les Mis is chosen somehow – it always is – but this time John doesn’t mind. All the things that used to slightly annoy him about his friend group don’t annoy John anymore. It’s occurred to him that everything can be whisked away so easily and he wants to savor this – savor every moment he’s with his friends. 

“Are you okay, John?” Hercules asks at points during the movie, checking up on John while Lafayette wipes away John’s tears gingerly.

John just nods, since it’s easier than saying the truth. Laf and Herc probably know the truth anyway.

John knows that he shouldn’t be so codependent. He shouldn’t have allowed this to happen – shouldn’t have allowed himself to depend on Alex so hard that he can’t function without his Alexander. John isn’t even sure how this happened, how everything escalated to this point. But he knows that Alexander is the best, most important thing that’s ever happened to him. And he’s going to get his Alexander back, no matter what it takes. 

Hercules and Lafayette are hurting, too, he knows. He supposes they’re all a little codependent. It’s hard not to love Alexander Hamilton – whether that love be romantic or platonic. 

He reaches up and carefully wipes away Lafayette’s tears. Herc is crying, too. Quietly, slowly, but he’s crying, and he wipes those tears too. It’s not because of the movie, John knows. They all miss Alex. They all want him back so, so badly.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's long oops

John spends the majority of the next day crying and not moving from his position from the couch. Lafayette and Hercules attempt to comfort him, but it’s futile, and everyone knows it.

“John? Mon ami? I made waffles, would you like some?” Lafayette asks in the morning. John shakes his head. 

“John, do you want lunch?” Hercules asks a few hours later (though what are hours when you’re sitting on a couch, staring blankly at a television, while you’re feeling pain worse than you’ve ever felt). 

“Please eat something.” They’re both practically begging him by the time dinner rolls around. But John isn’t eating. He’s not moving, either. He’s just… crying. 

Lafayette crawls onto the couch. “Mon ami, please… I know you’re not okay, but you don’t have to suffer by yourself like this. Let us help you. And, please, eat something.”

John doesn’t respond, but he lets Hercules maneuver his body into Herc’s lap and cries into Hercules’s shoulder while Herc rubs his back gently. Occasionally, Herc mumbles things like, “I know, John, I know,” and “we’re going to fix this”. John can’t tell if the second one is true anymore – he doesn’t think it is, but he can’t be bothered to tell Hercules that. 

If there’s one thing John’ll admit, it’s that Hercules gives damn good hugs.

Night comes, and eventually Lafayette and Hercules retire to their room. John doesn’t mind sleeping on the couch, he really doesn’t, if only sleep would come. It, of course, doesn’t. There isn’t any noise in the apartment, save the noises of the city outside the window. It’s busier in John and Alex’s apartment, since that is on a main road, but John tries not to think about that. Tries not to think about Alex (it only makes the urge to cry increase).

About a half hour after he starts trying to sleep, John starts to hear yelling coming from Lafayette and Herc’s room. It starts with Herc – though he’s not yelling, just talking loudly, almost desperately, and then Laf… well, Laf has never been a very quiet person.

“Rien, mon cul! Vous êtes - vous avez été un espion tout ce temps? Et vous ne dites à personne? Vous avez menti à mon visage tout le temps! Quand avez-vous allez me dire? Que faire si vous êtes morts, Hercules, que ferais-je alors? ... Ne pas - ne pas essayer de présenter des excuses ... Vous pouvez dormir ici quand vous arrêtez de me mentir, damn it!” Lafayette exclaims. 

John cracks one eye open at the thought of Hercules being a spy – he might be translating wrong, but he’s pretty sure Lafayette was just yelling at Herc because Herc is… a spy?

His question is soon answered, though, because Hercules walks out of his room and into the living room, his hand pressed to his temples.

“Are you okay?” John asks, his voice raspy from tears and lack of use.

“I got into a fight with Laf, I…” Hercules trails off. “He found out that I’m… that I’m a spy.” 

John sits up on his elbows abruptly. “You’re a _what?_ ” He sounds taken aback and slightly pissed, but Herc can’t help but feel relief at the fact that this is the first time John hasn’t spoken in the same monotone since Alex was… kidnapped. 

“A spy. For the government.” Hercules states, like it’s obvious.

“How long have you been hiding this from us?” John’s voice loses its inflection again, but at least it isn’t completely monotone anymore.

Hercules thinks. “I don’t know… a while? Three years?”

“Three years? So…”

Herc nods. “Just before the Washington Administration started.” 

“And you didn’t tell us? You lied to us about being a tailor for years?” John asks.

This time, Hercules shakes his head. “I’m still a tailor. The spy thing is a side job.”

“But Hercules, it’s dangerous.” John says. He sounds worried, concerned.

Herc rests a hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s not, I promise. There’s nothing – my life isn’t in danger, I promise.” He looks toward his bedroom. “At least, my job won’t kill me.”

Had John been in better spirits, perhaps he might’ve smiled. “Is everything okay?” He asks after a beat. “With you and Laf?” His voice is back to a monotone, but Hercules can tell he cares about the issue.

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s just… freaked out, I guess. I mean, I would be too.”

John nods. 

“He’s making me sleep on the floor in here.” Herc states. John briefly thinks that this is funny (he doesn’t laugh, he’s too tired, too sad). 

“You can have the couch.” John offers, still a gentleman, but Hercules shakes his head and gets settled on the floor, grumbling something about how he “can’t believe this”. 

John pretends to be asleep when, in the middle of the night, Lafayette emerges from his room and nudges Hercules awake, a string of apologies falling from his lips. Herc kisses him silent, stands, and wraps his arms around Laf. They retreat back into their room.

John is happy for them, he really is. But seeing them so happy and in love makes him ache for Alexander even more.

 

On Monday morning, John walks into work dejectedly, robotically. Lafayette and Hercules tried to keep him from going in, but John insisted. He’s spent the whole weekend crying and doing nothing while they try to get him to eat something, _anything_ and he needs to at least make an attempt to go back to normalcy. 

He walks in front of Washington’s office, as he always does, but this time Washington tells him to come inside. 

“Sir?” John asks, walking into the office.

Washington gestures to a chair and tells him to sit down. “Have you received anymore texts from…?” He trails off, but John gets the gist. 

John shakes his head. But he leaves out the part where he watched his phone almost all weekend, waiting with baited breath for a text message to come in. When one did, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t about Alex, he would dissolve into choking sobs in pure fear. It got so bad that even staring at the phone reduced him to shaking and crying, so eventually Hercules took it upon himself to hide John’s phone from him. 

“What are we going to do?” John inquires, almost weakly, like he’s scared of the answer.

Washington shakes his head. “If we want to get him back-” John winces at the _if_ , “we’re going to have to pay the ransom.”

“How?” John asks, dejectedly. Ten million dollars. A lot of fucking money.

Washington doesn’t say anything. 

“Surely you – I mean, the government – can fit it into their budget? A – Al – he’s the treasury secretary. Can’t you spare some money from the budget and pass it off as getting him back?” John asks – begs, almost.

Washington bites his lip and looks out the window, away from John. “We can spare _some_ money, but certainly not ten million. Why don’t you ask your father? He’s got money, hasn’t he?”

John grits his teeth. “He’s not my father.”

Washington nods. “I apologize, I meant Henry Laurens. Would he be able to give you money?”

“He may be valuable, but we can’t spare ten million for anyone – and then there’s the fact that we’re already trillions of dollars in debt.” Washington sighs. 

John searches for something – anything. “But he’s got to know at least some confidential secrets.”

Washington considers this for a moment. “He does. But we’re just not in the financial place to spend ten million on any one person.”

“I – but sir.” John presses. “He’s _Alex_. Surely you can… I don’t know… he’s _Alex_. We have to get him back. We can’t – we can’t let him _die._ ”

“I know, John, I know.” Did Washington's voice just... crack?

Washington turns around to face John again. When John looks him in the eye, he can see a tear making its way down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me if the french is off, i'm not entirely fluent yet and it's late so cut me some slack


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Aaron Burr's turn to tell the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while, i know, i know. But updates will be coming out really quickly again i promise

Aaron Burr has been terribly out of the loop lately.

He knows that Alexander has been kidnapped – hell, the whole world knows that Alex has been kidnapped – but he doesn’t know much more. He knows that John is an absolute fucking wreck over the whole thing – of course Burr knows this, since he’s been having to do extra work all week to make up for John’s absence (and there’s the fact that John has been walking around the White House all week with his eyes consistently red and bloodshot and shimmering with tears).

But he doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t know who took Alex or when (if) Alex is coming back. Washington refused to comment on either of those things, both publicly and to everyone working in the government. 

Burr's ultimate goal, of course, is to be more in the loop with the government. God, that’s the one thing he’s been after for most of his life. 

Luckily for Burr, he might’ve just found a way to achieve his goal.

He’s walking to some room for some meeting (for the life of him, he can’t remember) when he passes by Secretary Jefferson’s office. Burr has worked with Jefferson for a lot of his career as a Senator, since it’s easy to not speak your beliefs when you’re standing behind Thomas Jefferson, the most opinionated Republican currently in existence. Still, he doesn’t exactly like the man. So Burr doesn’t dawdle at the door; in fact, he picks up his pace a bit.

That is, until he hears something that catches his attention.

“Lemme tell you, James, getting rid of Hamilton was the best decision I’ve ever made!” 

It’s Jefferson’s voice – a very distinct voice, even to someone who doesn’t know him well. He’s laughing as he says the phrase, throwing it into the air like it’s nothing.

The sentence is followed by a quick “Shhh!” – Madison. 

Burr freezes almost instantly, making sure he’s out of view of Jefferson’s office and leaning against a wall to catch his breath. Hearing that provided him with a strange adrenaline – he’s finally in on something, a secret that only he knows. A very, very powerful secret.

But Burr also realizes that he holds what might be the secret that decides the fate of Alexander’s life. If he stays quiet about this, Alexander could be held by Jefferson until he dies. He might be tortured or undernourished – undoubtedly panicked beyond belief – and now Burr knows who has him captive. If he tells someone, he can save Alex’s life.

There’s also the possibility that nobody will believe him. It sounds far-fetched, even to him. Jefferson may despise Hamilton with all of his being, but would he really stoop so low as to kidnap him? He’s Secretary of State, and though he’s petty, Burr doubts he would go that far. Still, it’s entirely possible that Jefferson did this just because he thought nobody would suspect it was him.

Of course, there’s always the thought that Jefferson might have nothing to do with Hamilton’s kidnapping. But Burr knows Jefferson well enough to know that Jefferson isn’t above revenge, no matter what that revenge is. And if it takes breaking Alexander completely for Jefferson to get him out of politics, then that’s what Jefferson would do.

Burr has to tell someone.

John. He’s got to tell John.

Burr checks John’s office, but he isn’t there. The second place he checks is Alexander’s office, and sure enough, there’s John. He’s pacing outside Alex’s closed office door, undoubtedly fighting with himself over whether or not he should go inside. His eyes are still bloodshot and filled with tears. Frankly, he’s a mess.

“John.” Burr greets hurriedly, not caring about formality for once in his life.

John looks up, startled. “Burr? Are you okay?”

Burr doesn’t respond to the question because he doesn’t know the answer. “I overheard Jefferson and Madison talking.”

“What was he saying?” John asks, reaching up to wipe away some of his tears.

Burr falters for a moment. John is already a wreck, maybe he isn’t the correct person to tell. But he’s already here, in the middle of a conversation, so he continues. “He said… Jefferson’s exact words were ‘lemme tell you, James, getting rid of Hamilton was the best decision I’ve ever made.’”

It takes John a second to absorb the information, but when he does, his jaw drops open and his eyes widen. He doesn’t speak for a long time. “Holy shit. _Holy shit._ Thank you, Burr.”

Burr is about to say something else, but then John is taking off down the hallway, in the direction of Washington’s office. Without Burr. 

Burr sighs. Evidently, he’s still out of the loop.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points to anyone who gets my 1776 reference
> 
> warning towards the very end for references to suicide.

John doesn’t remember the last time he’s run this fast. He’s running, running to Washington’s office (he thinks). There’s someone standing outside the door, barring his entry.

“Let me in.” John says simply, trying to be forceful, but his voice sounds more pleading.

“I’m sorry, Senator, but the president’s busy and cannot have visitors at this time.” The person – intern, maybe? He has no clue – says. 

“It’s important.” John presses. “It’s about – it’s about Alex.”

The person looks confused at first, then they must realize who he’s talking about. They’re about to say something, but John is already barging through the doors to Washington’s office. Washington doesn’t even look up when he hears the noise. He’s bent over paperwork, his hand holding up his head and shielding his eyes.

“Mr. President,” John says as he walks in.

Washington doesn’t move, but he moves his head so John can see his face. The president’s face looks a lot more haggard than John remembers. He looks like he’s aged a few months – even, years – in the two days since John has seen him. There are circles under Washington’s eyes (there are circles under John’s eyes) and he looks almost like… has Washington been crying? He wipes away a few tears, which confirms John’s suspicions.

“Yes?”

“I know who has Alex.” 

Washington responds immediately. “Sit down, John.” 

John sits.

“Who is it?” Washington asks. 

John takes a deep breath. “It’s Jefferson.”

“ _Secretary_ Jefferson?” Washington inquires.

“Yes.”

Washington shakes his head. “I know you don’t like him and I know he tends to fight with Alex, but he’s a good man who has helped the government quite a lot. I don’t see how he could be the person who kidnapped Alex.”

“But, sir, I have proof.” John insists.

Washington raises an eyebrow. 

“Burr overheard him – Jefferson – talking to Madison. He said ‘getting rid of Hamilton was the best decision I’ve ever made.’”

Washington thinks for a moment. “John, I know that you’re – we’re – desperate for any news on Alexander, but I don’t think Jefferson is a person who would do that. And Burr, are you really believing him?”

John nods. Washington’s right. He can’t waste his time trying to accuse Jefferson of this when there are more important things at hand – like getting Alex back. “Thank you, sir.”

Washington allows John a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Any time, John. Now, please get some rest. You look exhausted.”

He nods again and tells Washington the same. When John exists the Oval Office, Burr is outside waiting for him. “What did he say?” Burr asks.

“He didn’t believe it. And, I mean, he might be right. Why would Jefferson do something like that? He’s not exactly the strongest person. And his revenge is usually behind-the-scenes shit, digging through Alex’s files and that stuff. He’s probably just bragging to Madison to get Madison to suck him off.”

Burr laughs at the last comment. He nods, though he doesn’t look very convinced. “Yeah.” Is all he says. 

 

When John gets back to Herc and Laf’s apartment, they’re chiding him for being so late. John defends himself by saying he lost track of time, which, honestly, he did. Lafayette presses him for more information, but John just shakes his head and says that work was busy.

Laf shakes his head and tells him he needs to relax more.

“I’m fine.” John insists. 

“When was the last time you’ve taken a bath – or at least a shower?”

John shakes his head, refusing to answer the question. They know the truth, though – not since the morning of the “wedding”. Lafayette stands from his position on the couch and takes John’s hand, leading him to the bathroom. John follows numbly. 

Lafayette hooks John up with all of his fancy Lush shit and starts running the water for a bath. Laf asks him to please relax in the bath and tune out everything else. John asks for a book to read. Laf is about to leave the room to get a book, but John stops him.

“Lafayette.”

“Yes, John?”

John explains everything that happened, the Burr saga and talking to Washington and the emotional roller coaster he’s been through. It’s like there was a glimmer of hope that they could get Alex back and then it was put out immediately. 

Lafayette swallows hard and nods at the end. He doesn’t speak for a while, but when he does, he just says, “I’ll send Herc in here with that book.”

John looks at him strangely as he exits.

Hercules walks into the room shortly after and hands John a book. John doesn’t even look at it.

“John?”

John looks up. “Yeah?”

Herc scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to put this, but… don’t try anything, okay?”

“What?” John asks, confused.

Hercules nods to the water, which has now nearly filled up the bath. “I mean, it’s deep enough for you to… and, uh. Just, don’t try anything. Lafayette and I are going to keep coming in here to make sure you’re still breathing, okay?” 

John is too stunned to do anything but nod. Does Hercules really believe that he would try to drown himself? John knows that he hasn’t exactly been behaving like a mentally sound person (he’s never been one) but he didn’t think it was that bad. 

“I… Hercules…” 

Herc just shakes his head. “It’s fine, John.” He rubs John’s back reassuringly. “Relax a little, okay?” 

John nods again.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

“Lafayette?” Hercules calls, walking out of the bathroom and leaving John to his own devices, no matter how nervous that makes him.

Lafayette doesn’t answer.

“Lafayette?” Herc asks again, slight concern creeping into his voice. He’s checked the living room and the kitchen, but there’s no sign of his boyfriend. Laf’s phone is still here – it’s on the coffee table – but there’s no sign of him. 

Hercules checks their bedroom before he officially starts to worry. Lafayette would tell him if he went out, even if it’s only for milk or something. And he never leaves without his phone. Herc tries not to jump to conclusions, but – surely he wasn’t kidnapped, like Alex?

He’s about to seriously lose his shit when Lafayette finally responds. He’s on the floor at the foot of their bed. 

“Lafayette.” Hercules speaks calmly now, softly. He walks over to Laf and sits down next to him. “Are you okay, baby?”

Lafayette doesn’t respond to his question, but he does grab Herc’s hand and hold onto it. “It’s my fault. Alex being gone.”

“What? No, Laf, you couldn’t’ve…” Hercules trails off. He isn’t sure if Lafayette is just blaming himself or if he’s actually responsible for kidnapping and detaining Alex – the thought of that makes him sick to his stomach.

Laf shakes his head. “John told me what happened today at work.”

“And what happened?”

Lafayette retells a wildass story about Jefferson somehow kidnapping Alex but the rumor being debunked. Hercules waits until Laf finishes talking, and then he speaks. “How does that mean you did it?”

“Don’t you see?” Lafayette asks, tilting his head up, like only a child couldn’t see it. “It _was_ Jefferson. But Washington doesn’t want to believe it. Merde, neither do I, but he would do something like that.”

Hercules nods – that does, after all, make sense. “How do you come into this, though?”

Laf looks down. “Because for Jefferson to get Alex, he would have to know that Alex would be alone.” At this point, he starts crying silently, and Hercules wipes away his tears. “And Thomas is a smart man, though our friends try to deny it. We spoke on the phone the day before the wedding and when I said I had to go, I told him John was staying over with us because they were doing that traditional thing. Don’t you see, Herc? I told him Alex was alone – I set Alex up to be taken away.”

After that, Lafayette dissolves into honest sobs, and Hercules pulls him into his arms. “Shh, shh, my love, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes – yes it is.” Laf insists.

“No, no. You might’ve told Jef – Thomas, but you weren’t the one who planned anything out or did the action of kidnapping Alex. You didn’t even come up with the idea. It’s okay, Laf, it’s okay.”

Lafayette just shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither does Hercules. Herc breaks the silence, though, because now he has some investigating to do.

“So you’re sure it was Thomas?”

Laf swallows hard and nods. 

“Okay. I’m gonna figure this out, okay, dearest?”

Lafayette nods again. “Are you going to get Alex back?” He asks, almost sheepishly.

“Yeah. And we’re gonna get Jefferson in trouble. Everything’s going to go back to normal. I’ll make sure of it.” Hercules assures him, but Lafayette doesn’t look very convinced.

Lafayette pauses. “Don’t get yourself hurt.” Is all he says after that.

“I won’t, Laf, I promise. I’m careful with these things. I’ve been a spy for years, you know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.” Lafayette points out, resting his head on Hercules’s shoulder.

“I worry about you, too, my love. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Lafayette doesn’t reply to that. Herc doesn’t expect him to be okay, anyway – Laf is still convinced that he’s responsible for Alex’s kidnapping and one of his bests friends has almost been confirmed as the person who’s torturing Alex. Hercules doesn’t say anything, either, he just holds Lafayette and presses a kiss to Laf’s head. Lafayette falls asleep pretty soon, still wrapped in Hercules’s arms.

With a smile, Herc lifts Lafayette up and places him in their bed, covering him with blankets. Hercules wants to stay and hold Lafayette, he really does, but he’s got work to do. He walks out of the room, holding his own burner phone that he uses for "spy shit".

“Hello?” The person Hercules calls answers on the second ring.

“Burr. I’m going to need you to go undercover and figure some things out for me.”

“What? Mulligan?”

“Shh. Are you up for it or not?”

There’s a long pause.

Hercules sighs. “It would help us get Alexander back.”

“What do you need me to do?” Burr responds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chapter that isnt entirely sad? In _this_ fic? Unbelievable.

“What?” Burr repeats – again. 

“I need you to find out if Jefferson really took Hamilton and how he did it.” Hercules responds, his voice firm but patient.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“We’ll put you undercover.” He says. “Bug you, mic you, et cetera. We’re not going to tell you what to say, since you’re way closer to Jefferson than we are. Take your time, of course; ease him into the topic, whatever you have to do, but get it done soon. We can’t – Alex can’t – afford to be there any longer.”

Burr cringes at that, the thought of Alex being close to death. “I – but I’m not a spy.” He assumes Hercules must be, from all the information he’s been presented with in this phone call alone.

“You won’t be a spy. You’ll just be ferreting information for the spies.”

Burr rolls his eyes – like that’s any better. He doesn’t say anything after that, just thinks. About what this could mean – especially if he’s discovered. He’s spent the majority of his political career trying to advance and build up his following and resume, even if that means staying around Jefferson. Personally, he doesn’t agree with half the shit Jefferson says, but Jefferson has a loyal following, and he needs that. So Burr stays around Jefferson, doesn’t say his own opinion, tries to strike up a friendship with the man. If Jefferson realizes that Burr is onto something, it’s years of work down the drain.

“Burr.” Hercules says, pleading this time. “We’ll make sure you don’t get caught. You’re our only hope of getting Alex back right now. You don’t do this, we might never see him again.”

It’s those words that get Burr. He… sure, he doesn’t always agree with Alexander (more like he never agrees with the man, but he digresses) but he doesn’t want Alex _gone_. He feels a strange responsibility for Alex, like he has to look out for the man (since Alex can’t even look after himself).

“I… fine. I’ll do it. When do you want it done?”

“As soon as possible.” Hercules responds. “Though you can swing by tomorrow and get bugged in case Jefferson lets anything slip.”

“I… okay. Where?” Burr says. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

Hercules gives him the directions to his apartment. Burr nods and writes them down. “Thank you, Burr.” Herc says, and he sounds like he really means it.

The next day he swings by before he goes to work. He can hear pandemonium occurring from his position outside the door. Burr weighs his options – turning right back around and just going to work sounds much smarter than entering the apparent war zone of Hercules Mulligan’s apartment. But then he decides screw it, since he’d rather just get this done now instead of coming all the way back here in the middle of the day.

Burr knocks.

The noise continues. 

He waits a little while and knocks again.

Still nobody answers the door.

Burr decides to just call Hercules’s phone.

A few seconds later, a loud phone ringtone can be heard throughout the apartment. Someone calls out, “Mon coeur, le téléphone sonne.”

It’s followed by a crashing noise, a loud French word that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and someone yelling “What?” The “what” is followed by a third person calling out “Laf, he doesn’t speak French.” In a small, scratchy voice.

“Mon Dieu, I was saying that your phone is fucking ringing!” The first person says in a heavy accent – Burr identifies the voice as Lafayette.

“Watch your fucking language.” Says the scratchy voice, but it breaks halfway through the remark.

“I don’t hear the phone!” Someone – Hercules? – says. 

“Because you’re thinking of the wrong phone!” Lafayette exclaims. “It’s your… _other one_.”

“Oh.” Hercules responds. “Fifille, can you get it for me? I’m getting dressed!” That would be why he’s talking so loud. The phone has already stopped ringing.

The scratchy, unfamiliar voice responds immediately, “Holy shit! Oh my god! Do _not_ call Lafayette that when I am in the room. Or the house. Or the world. Holy shit.”

“My hands are full, I’m cooking! John, get the damn phone!” Lafayette calls, seemingly unfazed by the nickname. 

“How can I function when I’m busy kinkshaming the fuck out of you two and wanting to kill myself at the same time?” Scratchy voice – John, apparently – responds. 

“John, shit, are you okay?” Hercules asks, his voice urgent.

“I… I meant it over the name thing. Not… in general.” John mumbles, and Burr has to move closer to the door to hear.

Just then, there’s a series of loud clanking noises and… can Burr smell burning? “ _Merde_!” Lafayette exclaims.

“What did you do to the kitchen?” Hercules asks, sounding amused and terrified at the same time.

Burr knocks on the door louder. “Can you guys just let me in?” He asks into the door.

The three voices freeze. “John, can you get the door?” 

Moments later, the door is opened for Burr. John stands in the doorway, his hair mussed and his eyes red and bloodshot. He’s wearing a ratty shirt and sweatpants and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Burr supposed he hasn’t, but he’s still taken aback – John looks at least somewhat better at work.

“Good morning, John.” Burr says.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Burr stays at Hercules’s apartment only long enough to let Hercules deck him out in spy gear – and by that he means put a microphone in his ear. After that, Burr is out of the door pretty quickly – Hercules, Lafayette, and John don’t stop screaming at each other the entire time he’s there. 

As soon as he walks in, Lafayette walks into the room, fixes him with a glare, and tells John that he needs his help in the kitchen, leaving Burr alone with Hercules. Hercules sends him a look of thanks and sets to work putting a tiny microphone inside of Burr’s ear. It’s more-than-slightly unsettling, but Burr doesn’t complain. 

John walks back into the kitchen sooner than Hercules had apparently anticipated. Lafayette is trying to call him back into the kitchen, but he had to ask Hercules about something – presumably where to put all the fallen dishes from Laf’s mishap. He stops abruptly when he gets into the living room, looking at Hercules with a confused expression.

“What’s going on?” John asks immediately, knowing something is up.

Hercules hesitates.

“Is this some spy shit? Wait. Hold on. Is Burr a spy?” John asks, looking between Burr and Hercules like he’s missing something.

Burr looks at Hercules and raises his eyebrows - _explain._

“Burr’s not a spy.” Hercules says. “He’s just investigating some things for us. Undercover.”

John still looks suspicious. “You’re… you’re talking about – about… him, aren’t you? Burr’s going to find something out about him.” His voice breaks when he’s trying to say Alex’s name. Burr almost flinches at that. He feels bad.

Burr doesn’t respond, just looks at Hercules, waiting for him to say something.

Hercules does speak, eventually. “I… yes. We’re going to use Burr to get him back, okay? We’re gonna get him back, real soon, John. I promise.” His voice is soft and gentle now, consoling John.

John nods and covers his face with his hands, turning away from Hercules. Herc still has his hands in Burr’s ear, tampering with the mic. Burr says nothing. Lafayette decends upon the group and rests a hand on John’s shoulder, whispering soft words. John stands and follows him out of the room, his shoulders shaking.

“Is he okay?” Burr whispers softly, once they’re out of earshot.

Hercules shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t think anyone expects him to be handling it any better than he already is. But he’s… fuck. I can’t sugarcoat it, really, since you just saw him. We’re – Lafayette and I – are trying to distract him from everything, but…” He trails off. “We’re gonna get him back.”

Burr nods. “Do you really think it’s Jefferson?” 

“I mean… there’s a good chance it was. What you overheard, paired with Lafayette actually telling him Alex would be all alone and Jefferson’s _history_ with Alex, it has to count for something. And if not, well, we can’t get in that much trouble for taking precautions.” Hercules says. 

“Is the mic on?” Burr inquires.

Hercules nods. “Everything you hear from here on in will be recorded on that, so be careful what you talk about. Unless you’re talking to Jefferson, of course, make sure you get the dirt about Alex from him. And you’re going to have someone listening in on you and the mic all day. If something goes wrong and you need help, say ‘candlesticks’ three times. You have to be the one to say it.”

Burr looks at Hercules for a second, raising his eyebrows. “Why is that the code?”

“Why the fuck not?” Hercules shrugs. “It took us a while to come up with that. Before that, it was ‘the Beatles are the worst band in history’ because why in the world would anyone say that unless they actually meant to say the code, only someone _did_ say it in the middle of a normal conversation without meaning to say the code. We almost sent the fucking SWAT team into a Starbucks.”

Burr shakes his head. This is the government, they’re supposed to be serious.

“Well, go do your job.” Hercules says, standing from his seat on the floor. “I’ve got those two to look after.”

Burr nods again. “I’ll get what you want from Jefferson.” He says, stands, and walks out of the apartment, trying not to think about how strange that encounter was.

It doesn’t take Burr long to walk to the White House from there. The microphone kind of tickles his ear, but he tries not to pay it any mind. If he pays attention to it, others will too. So he walks to the White House and ignores it, trying to remain normal. 

This is a normal day. The fate of the nation’s Treasury Secretary doesn’t lie in his hands. He isn’t about to discover the truth to what is probably the biggest government scandal since fucking Watergate. Burr isn’t going to betray the political ally he’s been trying to cultivate a friendship with for years. This is a normal day.

Oh, who is he kidding? Burr is more wound up than he would be on two double espressos. 

Burr takes to walking around the White House near Jefferson’s office, hoping that he’ll “accidentally” run into Jefferson. It takes him a while – over a half hour, actually – for it to happen, but he walks by Jefferson as the other man is walking into his office. Jefferson’s late (well, later than he normally is) and he looks uncharacteristically haggard. He has dark circles under his eyes and his hair doesn’t look as pretentiously kempt as it normally does. 

“Good morning, Jefferson. Are you alright? You look tired.” Burr says, striding over to Jefferson, trying to begin a conversation.

If Jefferson is surprised, he certainly doesn’t look it. He just nods. “James – Madison is sick. I was taking care of him last night.”

Burr nods. “You look like you could use a drink.” He hopes he sounds casual. 

Jefferson considers. “Several.” He concludes.

“Would you like to go out for some after work? I’m sure it would get your mind off of everything.” Burr suggests, hoping Jefferson will say yes.

Jefferson hesitates.

“We’re friends, right?” Burr asks, knowing he’s pretty much trapping the other. 

Jefferson nods after a while. “Yes, of course, Burr. So, after work?” 

Burr can barely suppress a grin.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

Burr is as antsy as one can possibly be for the rest of the day. He can’t leave work early since he needs to keep tabs on Jefferson, make sure Jefferson doesn’t do anything shady or even leave the White House. He needs to get Jefferson to come with him to drink.

After countless hours of sort-of-kind-of stalking Jefferson, Burr watches as he starts cleaning up his things to go home. Burr waits for him to be out of his office before he ambushes the man.

“Thomas!” He calls. “Surely you aren’t going directly home.” 

Jefferson looks up, almost… startled? “What? Oh, Burr, I… Madison is sick…”

“Come now, Thomas.” Burr responds, making sure to use Jefferson’s first name so things seem more informal. “We won’t be gone long, perhaps an hour. I’m sure James can handle himself for that long, no?”

The other man looks almost hesitant.

“I thought you wanted to dispel the rumors that you and he are dating.” Burr says, lightly, trying to make the remark sound as friendly as possible, since he knows that it’s a pretty deep dig.

Jefferson thinks things over for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Burr, you’ve got me. But we can’t stay out for long.”

“Oh, of course not. We aren’t as young as we used to be.” Burr jokes. 

He nods, allowing Burr to lead the way to the nearest bar. Burr opts to walk there, since it isn’t that far from the White House, even if it’s impractical since he plans on getting Jefferson absolutely smashed. Burr knows it isn’t smart and that he’s going to regret it soon, but he has some information he needs to get out of a trusted source. And he’d rather not text the person and drive at the same time, so he’s going to have to walk. 

It isn’t long before Jefferson is on his phone (presumably to text and check up on Madison) and Burr uses the time to find out the necessary information. Jefferson has walked right into his palm, right into his plan, and now all that’s left before executing the plan is confirming his suspicions about Jefferson. Of course, if Burr has been wrong this whole time, the plan will take a bit longer to go through with, but he can manage. Everything is going to be fine. 

Burr may have several – okay, many – apprehensions about texting his “source”, as he hasn’t spoken to them in _years_ and he’s pretty sure they hate him (or at least strongly dislike him). He had thought that he would never have to text them again, but here he is. Burr takes a deep breath – it’s not a big deal. It’s for business, technically. It’s for Alex, for ensuring Alex’s safety. 

He cringes at their contact name, a brutal reminder of an evening that was not very well spent, even if he doesn’t remember it. But that’s behind him. 

He starts typing.

From: Aaron Burr: Is Thomas Jefferson a lightweight this is important

Burr can only hope the person will respond – can only hope they still have his number. Hell, they might’ve blocked him or even changed their number and _shit_ he probably should’ve thought this out. 

But the gray typing bubbles show up and Burr smiles to himself. They’re responding. He’s got this in the bag.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Burr?? It’s been years!!

From: Do Not Drunk Text: What? Why do you want to know?

From: Aaron Burr: I really do love formalities but I’m in a situation and I just need you to answer the question

From: Aaron Burr: It’s about Alexander.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Oh. Shit.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: But yes, he is. 

From: Do Not Drunk Text: I don’t know if you’re at home or a bar, but if you dare him he’ll drink Jägermeister straight from the bottle. Once he drinks enough, he’s an open book and you can get as many secrets out of him as you want.

From: Aaron Burr: Thank you.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Can I ask why?

From: Do Not Drunk Text: You’re not implying that he’s the one who…?

From: Aaron Burr: That’s exactly what I’m implying.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Holy shit.

From: Aaron Burr: Indeed.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: How do you know?

From: Aaron Burr: It’s just a suspicion for now. I’m trying to get the information out of him tonight. But we have some incriminating evidence.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Again, holy shit.

From: Aaron Burr: Don’t tell anyone. If word gets out that the Secretary of State has kidnapped and tortured the Treasury Secretary, things could get messy.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: My lips are sealed, I promise.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Torturing too, though?

From: Aaron Burr: Yeah. The burner phone they sent the original information from had a picture of Alexander bloodied.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: And why was this not told to the public?

From: Aaron Burr: It might cause a state of national panic. 

From: Do Not Drunk Text: I will never understand American politics.

From: Aaron Burr: You lived in America for the majority of your life.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Still.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Alright, I’ll leave you to your spy shit, Burr. But you better fill me in on all of this shit involving Alexander as soon as you’re done.

Burr puts his phone away and turns around to find Jefferson smiling down at his own. Definitely Madison. The bar is in front of them, so Burr leads Jefferson into it and sits him down at the bar next to himself. Burr takes the liberty of ordering for Jefferson – absinthe, for its strong alcoholic content and because of Jefferson’s bordering-on-sexual love for France. He gets a normal pint of beer for himself, in the interest of drinking but not getting smashed.

Jefferson takes his drink wordlessly, downing it in two gulps while he continues to text. Burr orders him another, all the while smirking to himself. If the night continues like this, Burr could get some much-desired information out of Jefferson. Burr could get Alexander back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shitstorm's a-comin'


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN SO LONG I KNOW IM SORrY

Alexander Hamilton is smart. An asshole, yes, rash, absolutely, opinionated, of course, a bit annoying sometimes, no doubt. But he’s smart. He made it into Columbia University on a full scholarship and he currently holds one of the most important government positions, of course he’s smart. 

And that’s why he decides to break out of… wherever it is he is.

Of course, he’s weakened from dehydration and lack of food (he receives some food and water, of course – enough to keep him alive, but not enough to actually sustain him) and he’s got more than several injuries, but Alex is going to make it out. 

He’s been hatching this plan for a while (read: a few hours) when someone walks into his cell and starts untying his restraints. Alex starts shaking as soon as they enter – involuntarily – out of fear. But all they do is yank him to his feet and push him forward. 

The person holds his shoulder roughly, their sharp fingernails digging into the skin on Alex’s shoulder through his tattered, bloody suit. They push him forward. He complies, and walks shakily, hesitantly, not being able to see at all. At one point, Alex walks straight into a wall, only to have the person holding him laugh, yank him back, and push him in a different direction. 

When they get to their destination, Alex’s blindfold is untied and he flinches at the bright light. He’s in the bathroom – of course, this must be his bathroom trip. He thinks it might be daily, but he isn’t quite sure. It’s always pitch black outside (he can tell by looking out the single window in the room, unless they just make it seem dark). The other person – clad entirely in black so that Alex can’t see his face – turns around and walks out of the room, shutting the door sharply and leaving Alexander alone.

Alex takes a deep breath – he hasn’t been planning this out for that long. The thought of escaping had simply crossed his mind and he had ran with it and now here he stands, staring up at that window. He takes a shaky breath (it hurts his ribs, every breath hurts his ribs) and tries to calculate how far up the window is. 

_Come on, he should be able to do this._.

It takes Alex a while to focus his thoughts. _This shouldn’t be taking that long. He may be best known for his writing, but he is damn good at math and basically every other subject so he should be able to tell how far up this is._ His final estimate is about 10 feet, which makes it slightly less than twice his height.

If he can do this correctly, he should be able to climb up to the window using the sink and either open it if it’s unlocked or smash it if it’s locked. Once he gets that done, he’s free. And yet, the window is low enough to the ground that, if need be, Alex can jump down and be okay, as long as he rolls into the landing.

He should be fine. 

How long does the guard, his torturer, whatever, give him for his bathroom breaks? Alexander has absolutely no clue, but he can only hope that he hasn’t spent too much time standing here and that he can be out before the person comes back.

Alexander stands on the sink and tries to stop himself from shaking. He’s been spending an awful lot of time shaking lately, most likely because he’s malnourished and dehydrated and scared constantly. He boosts himself up so that he’s balancing precariously on the faucet, even though he knows there is no way in hell that his perch is even remotely safe. 

If he stands on the tips of his toes, he can latch onto the window with his hands. He’s never been one for any kind of physical strength, especially upper body strength, but somehow, mostly through sheer adrenaline, he’s able to boost himself onto the window latch. His position gives “precariously perched” a whole new definition. 

Alexander allows himself a second to breathe before his shaky hands try to open the window. It’s, of course, locked (why did he even doubt that it would be locked in the first place). He takes another second to collect himself before driving his fist right through the fucking window. 

It shatters on impact. 

Okay. Okay. He is so close to freedom.

Alexander is halfway to climbing out of the window when the door slams open and three people stand in the doorway.

He feels like a deer in the headlights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @andrew wanted me to include a snake, a horse, and 6 apples in this  
> but screw that


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Burr doesn’t know how long he stays at that godforsaken bar with Jefferson while Jefferson stares down at his fucking phone, smiling like an idiot. Burr just grits his teeth instead of saying anything (that sentence sounds like a summary of his entire political career, actually). The longer Jefferson stays like this, the more drinks Burr can order for him and the drunker he’ll get. It works out in Burr’s favor in the end, if you don’t count the part where Burr has to pay for all these fucking drinks.

“Is he alright?” The person mixing Jefferson’s drink asks. 

Burr nods. “Breakup.” He says, hoping it’ll sound decent enough.

The person nods, so he must’ve done something right.

Burr’s phone vibrates in his hand.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: How’s it going? How drunk is he?

From: Aaron Burr: Four shots of absinthe and I lost count of how many pints of beer

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Shit

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Is he throwing up? Giving you all your government secrets?

From: Aaron Burr: Texting James Madison

From: Do Not Drunk Text: So they ARE dating then.

From: Aaron Burr: Nobody’s really sure

From: Aaron Burr: That “anonymous source” on CNN was Alexander. 

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Why did I doubt that for a second

From: Aaron Burr: But what’s important is that he stops texting before he blacks out

From: Aaron Burr: We need the information.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: I’ll leave you to it!

Burr turns his phone off again and turns to Jefferson, who surprisingly isn’t on his phone anymore. “James went to bed.” He slurs, barely getting the words out. Shit. Burr must’ve gotten him drunker than he originally planned to.

“That’s okay. He needs his sleep.” Burr says, placing a comforting hand on Jefferson’s back. Sober Jefferson probably wouldn’t’ve liked that, but drunk Jefferson warms right up to it.

“Yeah. I jus’... love talking to him.” Jefferson says.

Burr, instead of holding back, asks the question on his mind. “Are you and him… together?”

Jefferson nods hurriedly. “Yeah. Yeah. We didn’t want to tell anyone since there’s a… what’s that word? Stigma! There’s a stigma against it, and all of my southern policies…” 

“Yeah.” Burr says. “But hey, Hamilton and Laurens did it. Surely you can.”

Jefferson’s nose wrinkles at the mention of Hamilton’s name. Burr can tell he’s trying not to scoff. “They’re liberals. Their little twenty-year-old occult following ate up all the gay shit. James and I are as conservative as one can get. Not to mention that _I_ am homophobic. Can’t just pop up out of the blue saying, ‘guess what, I’m gay.’ It’d never work.’

Burr nods. He didn’t expect Jefferson to be this pliable - and he also didn’t expect Jefferson to say he’s homophobic, given the fact that Jefferson’s some form of queer himself. It’s hard to believe that someone as arrogant as Jefferson can be hiding some degree of self-loathing. 

But he can’t dwell on this now. As much as he would like to get all the juicy gossip about who’s fucking who in the beloved conservative party, he has a Treasury Secretary to rescue. Burr clears his throat.

“So. On the topic of Hamilton, you must be getting so much work done with him… well…” Burr trails off, implying the obvious.

Jefferson grins. “Oh, _shit_ , Burr, have I got some shit to tell you.” He says it with the slight giggle of a drunk person. “But not in public.”

“We could go back to my place,” Burr suggests, because the one thing he wants in life is a hammered Thomas Jefferson crashing on his couch and probably puking all over his area rug.

Jefferson shakes his head and makes a comment about the world spinning before he continues. “No, no, we’ll go to Monticello.” He says. 

Monticello. Right. The pretentious name that Jefferson gave to his fucking house because he is an actual dumbass. Burr briefly wonders why Jefferson expects him to remember all the pretentious shit he does. “Okay, that sounds excellent… Thomas.” He says, paying the bartender for Jefferson’s umpteenth drink as he dismounts the bar stool. 

Jefferson downs the drink in two gulps and gets shakily to his feet, teetering a bit. Burr, feeling a pang of guilt for getting Jefferson so drunk, loops his arm around Jefferson’s shoulders, supporting him. 

“Lead the way.” Burr instructs, having forgotten where Jefferson’s house is.

Jefferson nods and starts stumbling forward. Burr hurries to catch up with him and half-assedly supports the man for the rest of the walk to Jefferson’s house. It’s hard work, trying to control someone like Jefferson, especially when that person is drunk off their ass. But Burr has to pull information out of Hamilton, and to do that he has to put up with Jefferson.

He sighs to himself as Jefferson fumbles with his house key, trying and failing to shove it into the door and unlock it. Burr takes the keys from him and unlocks the door for them, letting Jefferson stumble in before him. 

Jefferson sits down on his couch and waves Burr over. Burr takes a seat next to him, close enough to lean over and touch Jefferson on the knee to give the illusion of intimacy but far away enough that if Jefferson projectile vomits it won’t get over him.

“So where were we?” Jefferson asks, his words unclear.

“I had asked about Hamilton.” Burr reminds him.

Jefferson nods and looks around the room, as if anyone would be there listening. Madison is at his own house (which is pretentiously - but not as pretentiously as Jefferson’s - named Montpelier). Burr is pretty sure Jefferson has a maid or a servant or whatever, but she isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Alright, Burr. You said - you said earlier that we were friends?” Jefferson asks.

Burr nods, employing the hand-on-knee trick. “Yes, of course we are.”

“Alright. So, I gotta tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy, i dont normally put shit like this here, but if you currently live outside of the US, would you mind going over to my tumblr (johnllauren) and taking the survey that i keep talking about? it's for a school report and it's important and yeah. thanks!!


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Alexander stares, absolutely slack-jawed, at the people crowded in the doorway. He’s been caught. 

His pulse is racing and his chest is heaving and his hand is bleeding and he has no idea what to do. He can run through the window - he _should_ run through the window and just get out, escape immediately, get this over and done with. But something freezes him to the spot where he stands. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that even if he did run, he’s too weak to outrun anyone who could run after him.

“Thought you could get away?” Someone asks.

He doesn’t respond, just watches the group of men as they enter the bathroom and come nearer and nearer to where he’s perched, waiting, watching. 

One of them reaches up and grabs him by the ankle. Alexander doesn’t react quickly enough to do anything before they’re pulling him down from the window using brute force. He flails a bit in mid-air as he tries to remember what to do but it’s all happening too fast and he didn’t prepare for this and he can hear his heart pounding and the thoughts are all crowding in his head and - 

When Alexander had predicted that jumping from the window would leave him fine, he had only thought about willingly jumping while he had all his wits about him. He had not taken this into account. 

He crumbles to the ground, most of his weight falling on his right foot. He curses, the first sound he’s made in days, and it sounds scratchy and weak and scared. Alexander is so anxious that his ears are ringing and everything feels like too much. He can’t hear anything for a while from the ringing; it’ll occur to him later that he should have listened to see if he heard a snap from the breaking of a bone. But he didn’t think of that at the moment, all he could focus on was his world crashing down around him. And then there’s pain.

Excruciating, terrifying pain that shoots from his foot up through his leg and throughout his body. Alex isn’t stupid, he knows he’s done something to seriously injure it - sprain it or break it or something. So he’s been caught and he’s immobile. This doesn’t slow down his breathing.

“What did I say about talking?” A voice demands from above and Alexander looks up, shaky and terrified and panicked.

Alex is yanked up by the collar of his suit so that he’s standing, though most of his weight is concentrated on his left leg so as to not hurt the other by putting pressure on it. He stays silent, staring into the dark eyes of the person holding him, the person who’s been torturing him since day one.

The person forces him out of the bathroom - Alex is forced to step on his hurt foot, which, holy hell, hurts like shit. But he doesn't speak.

He’s thrown into a room that seems unfamiliar to him. The lights are on for the first time in days and they hurt Alex’s eyes, causing him to flinch. The torturer stares him directly in the eye, and Alex stares directly back.

“I’m not scared of you.” Alexander says, trying not to let his voice waver. It’s still scratchy, but he can’t do anything about that. 

“You think they’re going to rescue you.” The man spits back. 

Alexander doesn’t respond, which is almost as worse as replying with a ‘yes.’

“You think they care about you, that they’re going to take you back. How many days has it been since we took you, a few days, a week? News flash, Hamilton. They’ve moved on. It’s the government. They don’t have time to look for you, they have your replacement already. They don’t care about you anymore. They’ve moved on, and left you here to rot.”

Alexander doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. These are the thoughts he’s tried to make himself ignore, and now someone is finally confirming them for him. But he doesn’t let himself give in just yet. John’s spent months trying to convince him that he’s loved. Surely at least John loves him, surely at least John has been trying to find him.

“You’re thinking about your boyfriend, aren’t you?” The man asks.

Again, Alex says nothing. Not that he would speak, in fear of being hit. Of course he’s thinking of John, though.

“Do you honestly think he’s going to look for you? Do you think he _cares_ about you? He’s probably glad to get rid of you after all those months of having to pretend to love you. In fact, I’m sure of it. He can get back to work now that he doesn’t need to worry about you nagging him all the time.”

Alex swallows hard. John doesn’t love him. John has never loves him. Alexander sucked him into this whole fake dating thing, John probably never wanted anything to do with their plan - to do with Alexander. John hates him.

“You’re not worth shit.”

He’s right.

Alexander says nothing more that day, just sits and takes the punches and the hits and the kicks with minimal amounts of crying out in pain. While he’s being beaten to a pulp, the man continues to remind him that he deserves this. And at this point? Alexander believes every word he says. When he finally passes out, he’s grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps if you want to read a fun story between updates, read the crendon bondon/cark mondon discourse going on in the comments. u will not be disappointed.


	40. Chapter Forty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 40 ft. rent references bc thats taken over my life again

“Alright, Burr, I gotta tell you something.” Jefferson says (for the third time). Burr just nods (again) and bids him to continue, as if Jefferson could do that anytime soon. 

“I… uh, Thomas, you know you can tell me anything.” Burr repeats, trying to get over how strange it feels to call Jefferson ‘Thomas’. 

“I should tell you…” Jefferson sing-songs the words and Burr catches onto the melody immediately.

It is getting very hard to not dropkick Jefferson right now.

From: Aaron Burr: He was about to tell me something but now he’s just quoting rent

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Ooh!! I was in that in high school!!

From: Aaron Burr: Thats nice but I need information 

From: Do Not Drunk Text: there is always time for rent

From: Aaron Burr: Alex’s life is on the line! I dont have time to spare a minute!

From: Do Not Drunk Text: Not one minute, but 525,600? 

From: Aaron Burr: Im fucking leaving.

From: Do Not Drunk Text: alright alright

From: Do Not Drunk Text: but if Jefferson continues call me so i can duet with him

From: Aaron Burr: oh my god

From: Aaron Burr: fine

Burr puts his phone away again and turns to Jefferson. “What are you going to tell me?”

He’s drunkenly slurring the final words to “I Should Tell You” when he finally responds. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

Burr nods, mentally crossing his fingers to keep from telling a complete lie. “Yes, Thomas, I promise.”

Jefferson nods and looks around nervously before leaning over even closer, so that his hand is on Burr’s knee and his face is inches from Burr’s. Jefferson reeks of alcohol. It takes a _lot_ of self control for Burr not to wrinkle his nose in disgust, but he reminds himself that he’s doing this for Alex.

“I’m in love with Hamilton.” Jefferson finally says.

 _That_ was not the confession that Burr was expecting.

“What.” Burr responds eloquently.

“Fuck, Burr, I’ve been in love with him for years. But I can’t tell him because he hates me and he’s been dating fucking Laurens for eight years. Eight fucking years, Burr. And - and I mean. Fuck. I mean, I do love… James. But he’s not Alex, and I guess he knows that. But… Burr. I love him.”

Burr hesitates. “Then why did you kidnap him?” He asks the question without thinking or forming a proper foundation. In court, he’d be objected to, but Burr supposes life is not a courtroom. 

For a moment, Jefferson doesn’t answer. Burr’s breath hitches as he waits for Jefferson to tell him off or attack him for making assumptions. 

And then Jefferson speaks. “I had to get rid of him!”

Burr freezes. So it was Jefferson.

His phone buzzes in his pocket twice, but he disregards it. “Why?”

“Because - because I couldn’t handle seeing him every day when I knew he could never be mine. I thought it would be less painful after Laurens announced they were getting married but it wasn’t. It wasn’t, Burr. It’s so fucking painful all the time. I had to get rid of him.” Jefferson admits, tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. 

“But you hate him.” Burr says. None of this makes any sense. It’s thrown him for a complete loop.

“That’s what everyone thinks. God, I mean, I do kind of hate him and we will likely never agree on anything ever, but fuck, Burr, do I love him.”

Burr raises an eyebrow. “So you’re torturing him because you… love him?”

Jefferson hesitates again. “Well. That’s not the entire reason.” He takes a long gulp from a glass of whiskey on the table next to his chair.

“What else is there?” Burr wonders how long he can get away with this interrogation.

“Have you even _heard_ his political stances? I mean, of course you do, I don’t know of a single person who hasn’t heard Hamilton bitch about politics. But they’re a threat to our party, Burr, he’s far too liberal. And all the young people are fucking siding with him! If we don’t get our party’s ratings up, we’re essentially forfeiting the election… worst case scenario, Hamilton himself becomes president.”

Burr just stares. So he kidnapped Hamilton because he loves him and he needs to eliminate Hamilton’s political views?

“Burr. I... Listen. The simple answer is that I need him gone. I can’t go on with Hamilton at my coattails, essentially ruining everything. The country can only harbor one political powerhouse at a time, there’s no room for us both. But Hamilton doesn’t see that. I had to act fast - before he woke up and smelled the fucking coffee.”

Burr knows he shouldn’t be getting into an argument, but he can’t help himself from letting anger boil through him. “So this whole thing is just an act of self-preservation?”

“Burr, _Politics_ as a whole is an act of self-preservation. That’s why everyone hates it. It’s the biggest, most famous ego game in the world.” Jefferson says.

“I think that’s the most accurate thing you’ve ever said.” Burr remarks.

Jefferson nods, a bemused look on his face. He takes another swig from his glass, and then holds it up for Burr. “Can you get s’ more alcohol?” He asks, like this isn’t his own fucking house.

Burr takes the glass uncertainly and walks out of the room, hoping to come across a whiskey cabinet of some sort. There isn’t one in the room, so Burr shrugs and goes to sit back down, perhaps get more information out of Jefferson. But Jefferson is sprawled across his armchair, knocked the fuck in the three seconds Burr spent not looking at him. Burr shakes his head but says nothing, letting himself out and “accidentally” “forgetting” to lock the door behind him (it’s not like he has the key to Jefferson’s house anyway). 

He all but runs to Mulligan’s apartment, despite the fact that it’s really fucking late. It’s pushing midnight already, so that means he’s spent almost four entire hours with Jefferson. Definitely his idea of fun. 

Burr hammers on the door. The thought that everyone might be asleep crosses his mind, but he really doesn’t care. This is more important than sleep.

It turns out that they’re not sleeping. Someone’s been screaming, and there’s two more voices quietly shushing the screaming one. Burr winces involuntarily.

This time, Lafayette answers the door. He looks beyond tired with his hair pulled up messily, dark bags under his eyes, and a robe wrapped around his body. The screaming person, Burr discovers, is John. Mulligan is sitting up with John in his lap, rubbing the other’s back and shushing him quietly.

“Come in, Burr.” Lafayette says, surprisingly not insulting him. “John just had a nightmare, is all.” He gestures to the scene in front of them. “What’s wrong?”

“Jefferson has Alexander.” Burr bursts out.


	41. Chapter Forty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been so long aaa i know

“He what?” Lafayette asks, eyes wide. 

Burr is stared at by three wide pairs of eyes. John has ceased yelling in Hercules’s arms, and is now just shaking slightly, watching Burr like Burr has the power to control the universe. If by universe, John means Alex, then Burr supposes he does. Hercules looks somewhat pleased, like Burr has not only completed the task handed to him, but gone above and beyond with it. Lafayette is just in a state of shock, standing still, unmoving.

Hercules beckons Lafayette over and hands John to him. He then stands and walks over to Burr. “So you’ve gotten the information, then?” 

Burr nods. “I took him out drinking.”

“You’re a smart man, Burr.” Herc sets to taking the microphone and tiny camera out of Burr’s ear and places them on his desk. “Watch this,” he says, typing something into his computer.

Within seconds, there’s an image up on the screen. It’s the floor of Hercules and Lafayette’s apartment, probably from this morning when Herc had originally turned the camera on. Herc presses another button a few times, and Burr watches as everything he’s seen today goes by, sped up.

Herc stops and slows the tape down to normal speed once Burr and Jefferson begin walking towards the bar.

“Who’s he texting?” Herc asks as he zooms on Jefferson’s phone, answering the question for himself. Madison.

“Who’re you texting?” Hercules asks Burr. He tries to zoom in on Burr’s phone, but the contact name doesn't reveal much. He turns to Burr. “Who’s ‘Do Not Drunk Text’?”

Burr looks down, trying not to let red come into his cheeks. “Angelica Schuyler.”

Hercules laughs for a moment, then sobers back up. “How much does she know?”

“Enough,” Burr bemoans. 

“I’m guessing that means you told her about our plans?”

“I told her what we suspected. About Jefferson. I never told her the result.”

“Well, you might as well fill her in on the result. She was close to Alex in college, wasn’t she? Besides, she’s Angelica fucking Schuyler, if she didn’t find out after all this, she would murder you and get away with it.” Hercules points out.

Burr nods. “That’s fair.”

Herc’s lip twitches up in a hint of a smile - nobody fully smiles these days, not with… what’s going on with Alex. He presses play on the tape again.

“When does Jefferson stop mooning over his secret boyfriend?” Hercules asks.

“Once we go back to Monticello.” Burr says.

Herc looks at him like he has four heads.

“That’s the pretentious name he gave to his house,” Lafayette says softly from the other side of the room while he rubs John’s shoulders.

“He took you home with him? Impressive.” Hercules says suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Burr shakes his head. “Trust me, I’m not the one he has his eye on. Madison isn’t, either.”

He’s met by two very confused glances (John doesn’t look up, Burr wonders if he fell asleep) until they find out what he meant. Then he’s met with three incredulous glances (John must be awake, then). 

“You mean he-” Herc begins, cutting himself off.

“What the _fuck_.” Is Lafayette’s response.

“What kind of _fucking sadist-_ ” John whispers. Burr wonders if his voice is hoarse from all the screaming. He doesn’t sound great.

Burr shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” Hercules, Lafayette, and John aren’t the only people he’s talking to.

The room says silent until the tape finishes. It stays silent afterwards, too, until Hercules speaks. 

“He didn’t give us a location.”

“But he _did_ give us extremely valuable information.” Lafayette notes, but his voice cracks in the middle of it.

“Do you want me to get a location? I can get a location.” Burr offers.

Herc shakes his head. “Thank you, Burr, but I think my unit can take it from here.”

Briefly, Burr wonders how in the world Herc has been a spy all this time, before realizing that much stranger things have happened recently and the spy thing isn’t what he should be so caught up on. Things have been so impossible recently, the spy thing isn’t even that hard to believe. Burr sighs. 

“Thank you, Burr.” John says, surprisingly formal, though he doesn’t sound very put-together at all. 

Burr nods. “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s late,” Lafayette says. “Would you like to stay the night?”

“No, but thank you, Lafayette. I should really go home.” Burr says, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Listen, Burr: if you ever need dirt on someone, you know who to call.” Hercules says lightheartedly, the hint of a joke in his voice.

Burr almost smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, Burr exits the apartment and heads back out into the cold. It’s snowing - lightly, but still snowing - and Burr kicks at the accumulation while he wonders if things can ever go back to normal again after this.


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

Burr is entirely unaware of the absolute hell that breaks loose once he leaves.

John is staring at the wall, quiet again. He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself, but his hair is knotted and his hand doesn’t make it all the way through. He tries to stop himself from crying - surely he’s cried enough, he must be dehydrated enough - but it’s no use. He cries anyway, and then wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Lafayette isn’t that great either. His hypothesis of Jefferson finding out about Alex because of him has nearly been proven. He stands, leaving John alone, and walks into his room, hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking.

Herc barely registers any of this. He’s bent over his computer, hyperfocused, replaying every bit of the video and slowing it down to a turtle’s pace. He’s searching endlessly for a hint of Alex’s location, or maybe some sort of hint that Jefferson is lying about this whole thing, or something of that sort. Jefferson’s body language should be a telltale sign that he’s lying, since he’s under the influence and has no real control of his body parts. 

But there’s nothing. 

Which means Jefferson was telling the whole truth - or at least, most of the truth, when he said kidnapping Alex was his own doing.

This is a breakthrough that he isn’t sure he wanted to make. 

Jefferson is a goddamn political powerhouse (but then again, so is Alex). The news outlets of… everywhere have been reporting about Alex close to every day. Interviews with people - Washington, mainly, but a few with him or Laf or John - are in high demand. The people want to know what happened to their Treasury Secretary and Resident Most Liberal Person on the Hill.

But the government hasn’t had the answers.

Until today… well, maybe. If Hercules is right about this.

The media is going to go batshit the second they find out Thomas fucking Jefferson kidnapped Alexander. 

But to even confirm that, he’s going to need to do a lot of interrogation and observation.

He’s going to need some reinforcements.

“John, Laf, I’m going to work.”

For a while, there is silence in the apartment. Herc doubts he’s been heard and is about to ask again when Lafayette finally speaks. “Mon coeur, it’s after three in the morning.”

Is it really that late? Herc’s lost track of time. “I know, I know, I’ll be quick.”

“Hercules, sewing pants can wait until the sun has risen.”

“Not that work.”

Another pause. “Hercules, you can’t.” Lafayette says, and Herc can hardly hear him because his voice is so small. 

“I - Laf - darling. I have to.” He says, trying to justify himself and yet being at a loss for words.

“No, Herc. You don’t. You’ve done enough for tonight.” Lafayette argues softly, walking back into the room. He’s looking down, hands playing with the hem of his shirt, hair even more unruly than usual (sometimes, when he lets it out of its ponytail, he kind of resembles Jefferson). 

“Laf, I love you, but this is our only hope at getting Alex back. The sooner it’s completed, the better.” Hercules tells him, purposely lowering his voice as he says Alex’s name so that John won’t hear.

John, however, can’t take a fucking hint and hears anyway. “Are you guys talking about Alex?” He inquires, looking away from the wall and at Herc.

Hercules nods. “I have to get some work done, but we’re the closest we’ve ever been to getting him back, John, I promise.” 

John stands shakily, placing one hand on the couch next to him for support. “I want to help.” He says.

Herc hesitates. “John, I… you can’t. I’m sorry, we’d let you, but you would need to be briefed on a shitton of government secrets that we don’t have time to tell you about right now. And, besides, you aren’t in the best condition to be working or doing physical labor.”

John nods, because even he can admit that Herc has a point. He’s been pointedly avoiding mirrors for the past few days because he knows he probably looks like shit. He feels like shit, too. Jesus, does he feel like shit.

“Physical labor?” Laf demands. “Hercules, you’re not implying -” 

Herc cuts him off before he can finish, just for the purpose of not wanting to get John’s hopes up. “No. No, I’m not. Not tonight, anyway.”

“ _Not tonight?_ Herc, you’re not going to be one of the actual people to do it, are you?” Lafayette asks, trying and failing to mask his rising hysteria.

“I - Laf -”

“You told me you wouldn’t die while being a spy.” (Lafayette ignores the shushing noise Hercules makes at the mention of his profession.) “You promised me. And I am not going to let you die on me.”

Hercules nods, kissing Laf’s forehead and heading for the door. “I’m not going to die on you.”

“Remember to get some rest.” Laf reminds him.

“I will, I will.” It’s an empty promise, and they both know it.

Hercules heads out the door, clutching his laptop bag under his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact this chapter is labeled as "'there is no moral chapter or no chapter' - friedrich nietzsche" in my word document
> 
> also! i'm doing camp nanowrimo next month, is anyone interested in joining a cabin with me??


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer i know literally nothing about how spies and the government works

John doesn’t remember much from that night. He knows that he doesn’t move from his spot on the floor, just leaves his head in his hands. Time passes too slow, too fast. He isn’t sure where Lafayette is, either sitting on the couch or in his and Herc’s room. Hercules hasn’t come back (or has he? John isn’t sure) and there is quiet in the apartment.

Eventually, John hears something - well, sees and hears something. Lafayette’s hand is in front of his face, and he’s saying something that John can’t hear.

“What?” John asks, his voice scratchy and vacant and foreign-sounding.

“You haven’t been answering me. I told you that you need to eat something - you’ve hardly eaten anything in days and you’re getting weaker, mon ami. You can’t let yourself die because of - because of _this_ , no matter the outcome.”

“What are you saying.” John asks, but his voice is void of all inflection. “We’re getting him back.”

Lafayette nods. “Yes, yes, I know. We’re going to get him back. But you want to be healthy when you see him again, don’t you? You don’t want him to see you like this. Please, John, eat something.” 

John doesn’t respond. 

“Even if you say no, I’m making you toast and I won’t move until you eat it.” Lafayette presses.

“Fine.” John relents. 

Lafayette is just standing up when the phone rings.

\--

Hercules walks into his office in the Pentagon with a firm resolve to get Alex back - today. He knows Jefferson has Alex, but he doesn’t know where. And he plans to find that out.

Getting through security is usually a big ol’ pain in the ass, but today it especially annoys Hercules. He has things to fucking do, goddammit. But he bounds through the doors to his office - it’s not really his, he shares it with three other spies who operate in shifts so that there’s always two people in there at once - out of breath and shouting.

“Hercules, what’s wrong?” Someone asks. 

“I know who has Alex.” 

“Hamilton?” The other questions.

Hercules nods. “It’s Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson. I have proof-” He holds up the hard drive with Burr’s video on it - “-video proof. We just need to find out where he’s keeping Alex.”

“How are we going to do that?” The first one, Abraham Woodhull, inquires.

“Do you think we could take Jefferson into custody, since we have enough evidence against him?” The other, Robert Townsend, suggests.

“That’s an idea.” Hercules says, thinking out loud. He pulls out his phone - the burner one he uses for his spy shit - and calls Burr.

“Mulligan? What’s wrong?” Burr answers almost immediately. 

“Do you know Jefferson’s current whereabouts?” Hercules asks. “It’s kind of urgent.”

“Passed out in his house, last time I checked. Should be staying like that for the next few hours, too.” Burr responds.

Herc writes something down on a stray piece of paper - a government document that’s probably important, but he disregards that - and nods, even though Burr can’t see him. “Thank you, Burr.” He says, into the phone this time.

“Uhh, anytime?” Burr says, unsure. “Goodnight, Hercules.”

Herc isn’t quite sure he’s going to get to sleep tonight, but he respects the sentiment. “Goodnight, Burr. Thank you again.” 

Burr hangs up the phone. Herc snaps it shut and shoves it back into his pocket.

“Either of you bored?” Hercules asks. 

He’s met by two glances that clearly say ‘no shit.’ 

“Is water wet?” Townsend replies.

“I think the last remotely interesting thing to happen to spies was McCarthyism,” Woodhull notes.

“Well, anyway, I need one of you to go to Thomas Jefferson’s house - I have the address here - and bring him back here into an interrogation room, in whatever shape you can manage. Just not dead or sedated. We need information out of him, and we need it fast.” Hercules says.

Both Woodhull and Townsend jump at the offer. Eventually they both decide to go, since Jefferson will probably need two people to wrestle him into an interrogation room, anyway. Also neither of them wants to sit and wait in a dark, lousy office with a thousand security cameras everywhere. 

Which leaves Hercules to his own devices. He scans the security cameras for a while, then gives up on that, figuring that there’s plenty of other spies looking at the same damn cameras in various locations of the Pentagon. So he ends up slacking off, thinking of what lies ahead of him. If he can get the information of Alex’s whereabouts out of Jefferson without too much of a fight, they might be able to get Alex back tonight. It’ll depend on Jefferson’s cooperation and Alex’s location.

But still, there’s a chance he can be leaving the Pentagon to board a plane to rescue Alex in a few hours. And it occurs to him that he may not return. So he sits down, grabs a blank sheet of paper (that’s really the back of another important government document), and starts to write. 

\--

“Hello?” John says into the phone, his cell phone. He’s cleared his throat before answering, so he doesn’t sound entirely like a pathetic piece of crap. He’s also motivated to not sound like crap because, well, the caller happens to be President Washington.

“Senator Laurens?”

“I - yes, sir.” John tries to think of reasons for the president to call him at crazy hours of the night like this, but he can’t. At least, not a positive reason.

“Is M. Lafayette with you?”

“Yes, he is, sir. Is there, ah, anything we could do to help you?” John asks. Lafayette is looking at him quizzically, waiting for an explanation. John just shrugs at him, since he’s at a loss himself.

Washington clears his throat, almost nervously. “A mission was launched a few minutes ago, one that I believe will be of great interest to you.”

“What’s going on?” John asks, waiting for Washington to just cut to the chase instead of being so damn cryptic. 

“We’ve just sent out spies to get Alex back. If you can make it to the Pentagon, we’ll fill you in on more details.

John’s heart leaps in his chest. Alex is coming back, people know where Alex is and they’re going to get him back. John is going to be able to hold Alex and talk to him and run his hands through Alex’s hair again, just like things used to be. It takes him a few minutes to retain his cool and calm down. Finally, he speaks. “We’ll meet you at the Pentagon as soon as we can, Mr. President.”

 

Lafayette practically pounces as soon as John hangs up the phone. “Was that Washington? What did he have to say?”

“He - he said.” John pauses to collect himself - is he crying? - before resuming. “They’ve launched a rescue mission. To get Alex back. We’re going to get Alex back.”

Lafayette looks at him with an expression of pure joy, a light in his eyes that’s been absent for a very long time.


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer once again i dont know shit abt spies

John and Lafayette arrive at the Pentagon in under fifteen minutes, heavy coats half-assedly pulled around them to protect from the frigid winter air. Washington is standing outside the main entrance, flanked by multiple secret service agents. He isn’t exactly dressed up either, and, frankly, looks like he just threw on a coat and ran outside.

“Laurens, Lafayette. Glad to see you two could make it.”

Lafayette and Laurens nod, out of breath and grinning ear-to-ear. “Of course we did, sir. This is… certainly big news.”

Washington opens the door, ushering them inside. The secret service officers follow them in. “Of course, we aren’t sure if it’ll work. We know where Alexander is, the exact coordinates. But we don’t know what kind of security is keeping him there. But we do know that whoever’s there has no idea we’re going to try and break in.”

“Where is he?” Laurens asks. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice, just a slight hint of it, but emotion nonetheless. 

“He’s being kept in the middle of the Chihauhaun Desert, the one that lays along the border of the States and Mexico. He’s in Mexico, technically, probably to make him harder to track. But we’ve sent out best spies, all of them volunteers, to find him and bring him back to us. He’s in good hands.”

John just nods. He just keeps repeating the phrase “He’s in good hands” over and over in his head. Alex is going to be okay; Alex is going to be safe. In twenty-four hours, Alex is going to be here, maybe in the hospital but _here_ and John is going to be able to see him and hold him and tell him he loves him. 

It’s Lafayette who speaks. “Spies? Who exactly did you send?” 

Washington knows what he’s getting at. “I’m sorry, Lafayette. He was the first to volunteer, you know he was. There was nothing we could do to stop him.”

Laf nods. “I knew.” He breathes the words out like a whisper. “I should’ve tried harder to stop him.”

“Lafayette, there was nothing you could do. Mulligan would’ve gone anyway, you know that. He has his own free will.”

Lafayette nods, his eyes trained on the ground. He doesn’t believe Washington’s words. 

“He’s with the nation’s finest spies. None of them have ever died on a mission. They’ve got each other to protect themselves. All they have to do is get Alex and get out. We can tap into one of their cameras once we get into their offices.” Washington assures him. Lafayette just nods again.

Nobody speaks until Washington opens the door to a little room with two desks and an abundance of computers at it. “This is their office. Truth be told, I have no idea how to work any of these computers.” 

A secret service agent steps up and, upon getting Washington’s permission, sits at one of the desks. He clicks away at the keyboard and god knows what he’s doing, but pretty soon one of the computers turns on and displays an image. “We’re watching things through Mulligan’s camera.” He says. 

Washington nods, thanking him. “They’re still in the plane, by the looks of it.” 

The room falls quiet once again, everyone’s gaze fixed on the single screen. Things seem to be going smoothly; Hercules is by the looks of it, flying a fucking plane. The camera recording all this must be pinned to Herc’s ear or something, since only what Hercules sees and not what he looks like can be seen. There’s a GPS next to the steering wheel, displaying that Herc is almost directly above the location where they have Alex. He has his hands on the wheel of the motherfucking plane, and the flight seems to be going swimmingly. 

John had no idea Hercules could fucking _fly planes_. 

By the look on Lafayette’s face, neither did he.

All of a sudden, the silence is broken. Or at least, it’s broken on the screen. There’s a distant sound, like a crash, and Herc curses softly under his breath. Hercules looks down, turns on autopilot, and then checks his own body for injury.

“14 reports impact. Unsure which jet was hit,” Hercules says. John’s guessing he must be talking into some kind of mouthpiece that allows him to talk to other planes. Well, jets, not planes. But still, Hercules can fly a fucking jet.

“16 seconds the report. 16 uninjured; is 14 uninjured?” A voice asks. 

“14 uninjured. 15 and 17?” Hercules replies.

“17 uninjured. What the fuck just happened?” 

17’s question goes unanswered. “15? Are you there, 15?”

15 doesn’t reply.

“15 must’ve been hit.” Someone says. 

“Is anyone getting a signal from 15?”

There’s a chorus of “no”s. “That settles it. 15 is down and they’ve gotta be onto us.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed.” Hercules replies.

“We’ve got to go back. Quit the mission, or at least put it off for the foreseeable future. It’s not worth it, we’d all die.” 16 says.

“We can’t go back now, now that we’re so close.” Herc argues. 

“It’s too risky. We’d all be shot down before even reaching Hamilton.” 

Hercules doesn’t say anything for a moment, thinking. “Then we scatter and rendezvous at the location. Hamilton will die if we don’t get him back right now.”

“14, it’s one death or five, and 15 is already down for the count. They know we’re here and by the looks of it, they _really_ don’t want us here.”

“Without Alexander, our country doesn’t function.” Herc bites back.

“I knew we shouldn’t’ve allowed you to come! You’re placing your emotional connection to Hamilton in front of all of our lives. It’s time to let go, Her - 14, he’s already been gone for two weeks.”

Hercules exhales slowly, trying to calm himself down. “You two want to back out, then fine. Have fun losing your reputation of never backing out of a mission. I’m going in.”

“14, you can’t.”

“14, don’t!”

But Hercules doesn’t listen. He grabs the steering wheel, turns off autopilot, and dives down.

John can hear Lafayette holding his breath.

...And Hercules makes it. He lands the plane without hesitation, on the sand in the middle of a desert in the middle of nowhere. There’s no building of any sort in sight, which means either Alex is somewhere underground or Herc is going to have to walk to wherever the hell Alex actually is.

Herc climbs out of the plane and walks away, without even looking back. There’s something about his posture, the way he walks with a sort of blind confidence away from his jet and into the… vast nothingness of the desert. Even if he’s walking toward nothing, John can tell there’s something different about his body language. Sure, Herc has never been quite _shy,_ but he’s walking with a sort of overconfident gait, like nothing could get in his way, like he’s indestructible.

It’s an almost unrecognizable change, but John picks it out right away.

Deep down, Herc’s gotta know that this mission is an effort in futility.

He’s acting like this because he doesn’t _care_ what happens to him.

John looks over at Laf, wondering if he notices the same thing, wondering if he’s upset.

But Lafayette is watching the screen with pride in his eye, so proud of Hercules and his confident bravery.

John swallows hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy tonys u nerds!! im uploading this from my phone while on facetime with my gf bc she wanted to watch the tonys with me we are relationship goals


	45. Chapter Forty-Five

John continues not to say anything. He just watches, stunned, with everyone else.

Eventually, Hercules stops walking and kneels down on the ground next to some sort of weird desert plant-thing. He glances around nervously and then yanks it out of the ground unceremoniously. John expects it to be harder to remove than it is, given that the plant is almost as big as Herc, but Herc yanks it out without a hint of struggle.

The plant leaves the ground immediately, and upon further inspection it doesn’t even have roots. John’s always had a thing for botany and wildlife, so maybe he leans a little bit closer to the screen. But it isn’t a normal plant at all.

Right underneath where the plant used to be is a metal circle. Herc laughs, a tiny muffled laugh. He clears away more of the sand on top of the metal thing, and it only continues stretching on.

So they’re keeping Alex underground.

Hercules stops for a while, probably thinking out what to do. He holds his hands out in front of him, about to move. Everyone in the room holds their breath.

And then motherfucking sirens go off.

Not where Hercules is or in his earpiece or anything, Herc is fine. Sirens in the fucking _Pentagon_ start blaring. For a second, nobody moves. Then the secret service agents leap into action, throwing themselves towards the President and ordering everyone out of the room and down the fucking stairs.

This is John’s first time in the Pentagon, so he had no idea where anything is, only that he’s being careened into a tiny cement staircase with a plain little railing. Lafayette doesn’t look much better, he’s visibly nervous and confused and isn’t that steady on his feet. But they just keep going further and further down, into some kind of secret government bomb shelter. All John can do is think about how fucked up this is.

Some people, secret service agents, are whispering about things. Alex’s name is mentioned - each time it is, it makes John’s heart lurch - several times, the words “terrorist attack” are also mentioned, which is frankly scary as fuck. John isn’t exactly in good enough shape to place his thoughts together, but if he was, he’d probably be freaking the fuck out.

The President, who is directly in front of them, seems relatively calm for the leader of a country in an area that’s very clearly being threatened. 

Eventually, the stairs stop and everyone is corralled into some sort of room that’s way too tiny to fit all these people and nobody says anything. John grabs onto Lafayette’s arm to ground himself. He hasn’t eaten a significant meal in god knows how long and running down multiple flights of stairs has his head spinning. Lafayette looks down at him, concerned, and loops a steadying arm around his back. 

“Are you okay, mon ami?” Lafayette asks.

“Honestly?” John replies. “No fucking way.”

Laf laughs coldly. “I feel that.” 

Someone comes by to inform John and Lafayette (but mostly Lafayette, John kind of tunes it out because his ears are ringing) of what’s happening. There’s a fucking bomb threat - yes, a _bomb threat_ and they’re assuming it’s from the people who have got Alex. They - the people who have Alex - know about their rescue attempt, and they’re going to fight it off as hard as they can. 

“What about Hercules?” Lafayette inquires.

“Who, Mulligan?” The person pauses. “God knows what’s going to happen to him. He directly disobeyed orders and went into what is, essentially, a death trap. We have no contact with him currently, most likely because he is refusing to reach out to us.” 

John didn’t think the pit in his stomach could get worse, but he’s pretty sure it just expanded exponentially. 

Everyone is so entirely fucked. 

 

-

 

Hercules isn’t exactly sure what he expected when he barged into the underground facility housing Alex. He certainly wasn’t expecting breaking in to be this easy.

Sure, it wasn’t an entire piece of cake, but all he had to do was knock out the guard near the entrance and take his uniform. Then he’s pretty much able to roam about the facility as much, as long as he doesn’t look suspicious. But he isn’t here to amble around and take notes on what Jefferson’s put together in his free time. He’s here to grab Alex and get the fuck out of here. 

Even if it means he has to ask someone where Alex is. (Which he does, and he’s given directions without anyone batting an eyelash). And then it’s smooth sailing from there on out.

Well. Relatively smooth sailing. 

Hercules steps into the room that supposedly houses Alex. He draws in a deep breath and flicks the light on.

And gasps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another reminder- my cabin for camp nanowrimo is far from full! please join if you're interested, even if you won't have a lot of time to write or you havent done nano ever. ok cool!!


	46. Chapter Forty-Six

Hercules Mulligan has just found Alexander Hamilton.

Alexander Hamilton, the most sought after person in the government. Subject of one of the biggest scandals in the history of the American government - though not by choice. Alexander Hamilton is right in front of him - at least, he thinks it’s Alex?

“Alexander?” Hercules asks softly, walking into the room and towards a lump at the center of it. His footsteps echo on the floor, making him sounds much scarier than he really is. 

The lump gets smaller, almost like it’s shrinking in on itself. Upon further inspection, it’s shaking. Herc is almost entirely sure it’s Alex.

“Alex, Alex, it’s Hercules. I’m here to take you home.”

Alexander looks up. Shit, Hercules thinks immediately, he looks like utter crap. Not that Herc expected him to look his best, but this is… so much worse than he’s expected.

Alex’s already-thin body looks even worse now, like his skin only exists for the purpose of stretching across his bones. His cheekbones are hollow and too visible, his whole body is tiny. Alex had always been small and underweight to begin with, but this is so much worse than he’d ever been before. Hercules almost doesn’t understand, he doesn’t want to understand, he wants to do and pretend none of this has ever happened.

“Herc?” Alex’s voice is so, so tiny. It’s hoarse, and scratchy; like he hasn’t spoken in days upon days. “Is that really you?”

“Yes, yes, Alex, it’s me.” Herc says gently, crouching down so he can see eye-to-eye with Alex. “Can I lift you up so we can go home?”

Herc can’t exactly tell what Alex is thinking, since he has some sort of emotionless facade going on. But, as an effect of being around Alexander for years, he can practically hear the gears turning and turning in Alex’s head as he thinks. 

“You aren’t Hercules.” Alex says. 

So he thinks Herc is trying to trick him. He thinks that Herc is someone who wants to _hurt him_ even though that couldn’t be further from the truth,

“Alex, no, Alex, it’s me. I’m here because the government sent me and I’m going to get you and bring you back home to John and Lafayette and Washington and your old life, I promise.”

Alex looks skeptical until Hercules says John’s name. Once John is mentioned, his entire personality changes. “John?”

“Yes, Alex, I’m here to bring you back to John.” Hercules says slowly, gently. “Will you let me take you back to D.C.?” 

Alexander nods then, but then cringes. He’s hurt himself. 

Herc makes sure to be extra cautious when he sets to lifting Alex out of the chair. He pulls a knife out of his uniform and cuts Alex’s bindings, trying not to visibly flinch when Alex’s chafed bloody flesh is exposed from under the binding. It’s okay. Alex is going to be okay.

He lifts Alex carefully, trying not to hurt him or rub against any of his injuries as he pulls Alex into his arms. “It’s okay, Alex, we’re going home. I’m going to take you home.”

“To John.” Alex says.

Had they not been in a strange kidnapping facility and had Alex not been severely injured and on the brink of death, Hercules would’ve gagged at how dumb and in love that sentence sounded. Alex, the dumb nerd, thinks of John as his home.

God, he loves Alex. Alex is, after all, one of his best friends. 

But now isn’t the time for being sentimental, it’s the time for breaking out of scary places run by bad guys. And that’s what they’re going to do. Together. 

 

-

John and Lafayette are currently in a government bomb shelter, obsessing over the fact that the loves of their lives might be dead or dying right now and there’s nothing they can do about it. Oh, and also the fact that they’re in a very important building to the U. S. government that literally might be bombed at any given moment. 

“Any news?” Lafayette asks every single damn time a government official walks by them. The person, regardless of who it is, just smiles sadly and shakes they head and carries on. John wonders why Laf does it every time, since it’s kind of an effort in futility.

Lord knows how long they stay there, sitting with their knees drawn into their chests and their knuckles white from gripping them. Neither speaks, aside from those two words repeated over and over by Lafayette.

There is no news. 

John becomes accustomed to the thought that there will never be any news. He just keeps telling himself that Alex will be okay, Ales is going to be fine. Hercules will get him and bring Alex home to John, and then John will be able to hold Alex and hug him and kiss him and never ever let him go. 

Lafayette looks over at John, his expression void of any emotion and yet his eyes saying a million words at once.

“They’re going to be fine.” John answers out loud, sounding not-at-all convinced.

Laf nods. He turns away.

After what seems like a few years, Washington walks by and looks like he wants to talk to them.

“Mr. President?” John asks.

The president hesitates. “We’ve found a few computers down here from last time there was a bomb drill -”

“So you’re saying this is a _drill_?” Lafayette inquires.

“No, no, this is the real thing.” Washington assures them, though the sentiment isn’t exactly reassuring. 

“What exactly are you getting at?” John asks.

“I’m trying to say that we were able to tap into Hercules’s camera and microphone on the computer and you can watch them again, although it _is_ a considerably smaller picture than it was before.” Washington explains. 

John is standing before anyone can say anything else. “I want to watch.” He says.

Laf nods and stands as well.

The corners of Washington’s lips poke up in an almost-but-not-quite smile. He turns around and leads them across the room, to where there’s a computer the size of a tablet being held and scrutinized by someone John doesn’t recognize. 

“Is that him.” Lafayette asks - rather, says. He states it like it’s a sentence instead of a question. 

“We’re watching this from Hercules’s body, but we can’t tell what he’s looking at since it’s dark.” Washington says.

There’s a voice coming through the speaker. The person John doesn’t know turns up the volume. “It’s okay, Alex, we’re going home. I’m going to take you home.” Hercules says.

“To John,” Someone says. The voice is small and scratchy and it sounds like it’s in pain, but John would recognize it anywhere.

John is pretty sure his heart just did a fucking somersault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil note: if ur interested in doing camp nano with me but u think u cant say anything bc i havent been talking about camp nano in the notes, the cabin is still very open until july if anyones interestedddd ok nice
> 
> ANYWAYS consider this chapter the calm before the storm


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok woo heads up this is the second-to-last chapter (unless i add an epilogue maybe) so yeeeee

John has just found out that the love of his life and fiancee is still alive and almost home. This might be the happiest moment of his entire damn life.

“Alex is alive.” Lafayette says under his breath, almost in utter disbelief.

John realizes that he never allowed himself to think about the fact that Alex might be dead, that Alex would be killed or that he would just give up on life. He was petrified, petrified of the things that could be done to Alex, but had never considered death.

Although what happened to Alex might be a fate worse than death. 

He doesn’t want to think about that.

Neither Hercules nor Alex speaks; the only sound to be heard is that of one set of footsteps on the floor. So the camera must be dark because Herc is holding Alex in his arms. John wonders if Alex can even walk, and then shoves that thought from his mind.

John has to remind himself to blink a few times, just because he wills his eyes to stay open so he can watch to see if anything happens. Shortly, though, a voice comes over a loudspeaker saying the “bomb threat” was falsely reported and there is no immediate danger, so they will all need to head upstairs. So he’ll have to look away for a minute or so. That’s okay. Nothing is going to happen. 

Alex will be safe. 

He repeats this to himself over and over again as he climbs the stairs, wills himself to think that Alex will be okay. He’s already in Hercules’s arms, so the worst is over. 

John runs into the room they were in before the sirens blew as fast as he can manage. Sure enough, the computers and cameras and equipment are all still set up, still displaying the live feed from Hercules’s camera.

Only it’s not black anymore. 

Herc is standing in a room lit by the kind of bright lights normally seen in hospitals or doctor’s offices. There’s two large, muscled men standing in front of him, holding a smaller person, who hangs limply in their arms. 

It takes John a while to realize who exactly the smaller person is - it’s Alex. Alex is being held roughly by two people that John _knows_ aren’t “good guys”, and he isn’t fighting back at all. Alexander, the most fiery person John has ever known. Alexander, who would fight anyone and everyone no matter how much smaller than them he was. Alexander, Alexander “Fight Me” Hamilton, lying limp in the arms of somebody who’s hurt him.

This isn’t Alex.

No, let him rephrase that. This _is_ Alex, but it’s not normal Alex. He’s the product of whatever they’ve done to him, whatever damage - physical and psychological - has been inflicted upon him. 

They’ve hurt him so badly.

“You thought you could get away with taking him from us, did you?” One of the men holding Alex back asks Herc. 

“We’ve got Jefferson.” Hercules growls. “He’s locked up now, and he’ll tell us any information we need. Hand. Alex. Over.”

John holds his breath without even realizing. His hands are balled into fists, his nails digging into his palm. This moment could make or break everything - part of that everything being his Alex’s life. 

Then many things happen all at once. John almost misses it - one of the two guards reaches for Hercules, who immediately ducks and steps to the side (with gracefulness he’s only achieved from dancing the Cha-Cha Slide for years) and the other grabs Alex and pins him to the wall behind them, holding him in a chokehold. 

John’s breath hitches.

Hercules’s bandana is removed from his head in a quick motion, and John wonders if that was done by accident or on purpose. But he also realizes that it means Herc’s camera is now exposed and in plain sight, so that everyone can see he’s recording.

“What is that?” One of the guards asks, and John’s thoughts are confirmed.

“‘S nothing.” Herc responds.

“Is that a fucking _camera_?” He presses.

Hercules says nothing.

“Well, the least we can do is give the viewers at home a show.”

John isn’t quite sure what that means, but it leaves a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He doesn’t realize he’s squeezing Lafayette’s hand until Laf lets out a tiny “ow.” John lessens his grip a bit, only to notice that Lafayette has an iron grip on his hand as well. So he doesn’t feel that bad squeezing Laf’s hand.

John feels stuck in some sort of limbo, in between wanting to look at the screen and at the same time not being able to. He knows Alex is on the screen, he knows Alex is in pain, he knows something bad is happening to Alex. And as much as his curiosity is trying to get the best of him, John doesn’t want to look.

It’s not like there’s anything he could do, anyway. He would just have to watch his Alexander while god knows what happened to him. And then he’d feel even more hopeless than he does already. So he keeps his eyes shut.

“What are they doing?” John asks Lafayette weakly. 

“They’re choking him.” Laf answers, his voice cold.

One of the guards speaks up then. “You know, Jefferson never really liked Burr. But he was right about one thing - ‘fools who run their mouth off wind up dead.’ This is what you get for never shutting up, Hamilton. I’d’ve thought you would’ve learned.” 

_So they’re going to kill him._

John can hear Alex struggling, can hear the pain and the fear in his voice. He knows he’s going to die, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to give up any time soon.

“Alex,” Hercules says. “Alex, John’s watching this right now. John loves you. He loves you so much.”

John has never been more grateful for Hercules. He just wishes he could’ve been there to tell Alex he loved him instead of having Herc do it for him.

There’s a sickening sound coming from the speakers, Alex trying to draw in a breath. He must somewhat succeed, since he’s able to speak. 

“John, I -” 

There’s a sickening _snap_ noise.

A pause. Everything is quiet.

Lafayette is the only person to speak.

“He’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay im _actually_ sorry for this one
> 
> (plug plug plug im johnllauren on tumblr if u wanna scream)


	48. Chapter Forty-Eight

There is silence while Lafayette’s remark sinks in.

Alex is dead.

Everything they’d fought for, everything they’d prepared for, is gone. Alex is dead and now Hercules is stranded and outnumbered in some sicko facility made to hold hostages. Alex is dead.

There’s yelling in the distance, but John can’t tell if it’s coming from their room or from the computer screens. A few thumps, a loud crash, and then quiet again. Someone nearby whispers something, but John only catches the word “blood.”

Someone screams.

John is quiet.

John doesn’t make a sound. He stays silent, unable to register anything even if he wanted to, not understanding. Lafayette’s words don’t process, they don’t make sense, he ignores them. There’s more screaming, the kind of wail-screaming that a crying person would make, and upon further inspection, it’s Lafayette doing the crying.

John feels like he’s looking at everything through a veil. Washington bends down to comfort Lafayette, who’s on the floor by now, still screaming. The president’s whispering condolences in his ear, probably trying to get him to stop wailing at the top of his whiny French lungs.

(Not like it’s any use).

John glances over at the two of them, watching Laf’s face as it contorts, his tears making his makeup run. Upon further inspection, Washington is also crying. He’s crying silent tears though, not even making an effort to wipe them away. John is surprised. The stoic, emotionless commander in chief is actually fucking crying. This isn’t the first time John’s seen him like this (though the only other time was also over Alex) but it’s surprising all the same.

Of course Washington is crying. He was a father figure to Alex, though one might even go as far as saying he was just plain Alex’s father (not biologically, obviously; though Jefferson did spread rumors to the press about that more than once). Now that John thinks about it, Washington must be absolutely fucking devastated.

Alex was always concerned that he was burden, that he leaned and depended too hard on everyone close to him. But really, it was everyone close to Alex that depended on him. Alex, even with his loudmouth fight-me attitude, was a wonderful fucking person, and it was hard _not_ to fall in love with him.

Using past tense doesn’t sound right. Because it’s _not_ right, Alex should be standing right here next to John or at least _alive_ in that shitty facility, his lungs should be working and his heart beating and he should be breathing. 

He wasn’t even himself when he died. He was a shell of who he used to be, tortured and silenced into complete submission. God, he probably fucking wanted to die. John wishes he had been there on the morning of their fucking wedding. He _should’ve_ been there.

God, he wishes he could go back in time and slap himself in the fucking face.

There are secret service agents looking at John like they expect him to snap or break or _something_ , waiting for him to break down wailing just like Lafayette just did, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, doesn’t anything. He is silent, he is numb.

Someone stands next to him, probably to catch him if he faints or does something equally as stupid. He turns to them eventually, addressing someone for the first time.

“What happened?” His voice is barely a whisper, soft and hardly audible.

The secret service agent answers him after a moment of hesitation. “Hamilton and Mulligan are dead.”

Hercules too. He missed that one.

Part of John wants to scream that _no, they’re not dead, they can’t be fucking dead._ But he knows that there’s no point in that, he’s just be denying the obvious. They’re gone, they’re dead, there’s nothing he can motherfucking do about it. That’s just how it is. 

“I’m sorry.” The secret service person says, probably to ease the awkwardness or something, not that it’ll work. Lafayette is still wailing and John feels like he was just punched in the ribs or the stomach or _something_ , but yet at the same time he doesn’t feel anything.

“It’s not your fault.” John says automatically, since it’s what he’s used to saying when Alex apologizes for something he hasn’t done. _Alex._

The secret service agent nods. “Are you okay?”

John laughs some sort of cold, empty laugh. “No.” He says, but it’s not like he’s crying.

Well, actually, upon further inspection (touching his face with his hands) he is crying, little silent tears stubbornly making their way down his face no matter how hard he tries to push them away with his hands.

He doesn’t want to feel anything. Something tells him he should be feeling something or at least crying, but that’ll come later. For now, he’s just numb, and it’s almost a good thing. The Pentagon isn’t exactly the best place to have a mental breakdown. That can happen later, on its own time.

For now? He thinks he’ll just stand here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be the last chapter, but i can't let this universe go so expect an epilogue sometime before julyyyy ok cool
> 
> soz lmao


	49. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. here it is. the actual last chapter.

1 year later

John’s favorite time of day is the morning, the time immediately after he wakes up. For a moment or two, before he remembers anything, he is calm. He wakes up and he is thinking of nothing except his alarm and how tired he is.

And then it sinks in and he remembers. 

He remembers Alex dying. He remembers the vivid details, hearing the snap of Alex’s neck as he died and then hearing Lafayette’s voice sounding broken and hollow. There’s always at least a gasp, sometimes a scream. Lafayette is there beside him usually, always a late sleeper, there to hold onto him until he comes back down to reality. 

John goes about his day after that, ignoring the little pull in his chest. He stays in government, works and works and works to try to ignore his grief. Takes a small vacation after Alex’s death and then comes back full swing. There’s only so long he can publicly mourn before he has to get back to work. He’s already thinking about his reelection, he’s going to have to start campaigning soon. 

There’s a new treasury secretary now, whom John is amicable with, but it’s weird. Weird to see somebody else in Alex’s office every day, with Alex’s job and responsibilities. He helped John clean out the office after Alex’s death, which of course meant he got to see John cry,which makes him more than an acquaintance (but still less than a friend). John can’t exactly hate the man, since all he did was get a promotion. But it’s still strange.

He lives with Lafayette now. Neither of them could stand living in apartments full of ghosts of their significant others, so they moved into another apartment together. They got rid of most of their old belongings and bought entirely new ones. John is very grateful for his Senate job, which has him “rolling in the dough”. 

His new apartment is cosy. It’s not modest, though - nothing Lafayette owns could ever be modest. But John likes it, and he feels less lonely when Laf is always by his side. Washington swings by sometimes to check up on them - something the secret service agents all bitch about, but he does it nonetheless. 

John can tell Washington misses Alex. The first time he comes over, Laf leaves the room briefly to make tea. John wonders if he leaves him alone with Washington deliberately.

“I’m proud of you, son.” Washington says, leaning over on the sofa to put his arm on John’s shoulder. John just smiles sadly in return, not entirely sure what to say. His silence is enough.

Living with Lafayette is nice. If anything, his French has improved significantly. He was already fluent, of course, but now his accent is near perfect (Lafayette is very proud of this fact). John often jokes that Lafayette should take him to France and show him off to Laf’s huge, rich family now that he’s got French in the bag. Lafayette just shakes his head and tells him he’d better work on his pronunciation of _mille-feuille_ if he wants to do that.

There’s also a bond the two share, now, and of course they do. If there’s anyone who can understand what they’ve been through, it’s each other, and they respect that. They’re a lot more touchy-feely now, holding hands in public and kissing sometimes, too. It’s not romantic; there’s no romance or flames there at all. It’s just ways to express how much they care for each other. And it’s nice. It’s nice to feel that intimate touch that was ripped away so fast.

“I’m going home.” Lafayette says one morning, out of the blue, walking in on John making breakfast while some pretentious un-subtitled French film plays in the background. 

“What?” John asks.

Lafayette puts a suitcase down on the tile floors. “Home. To Paris.”

John, stunned, doesn’t reply for a minute. “Oh.” He says. “Yeah. Okay.”

“If… if you don’t mind. I just need to clear my head a little bit, go back to where I was before everything got complicated, you know?”

John nods. “How long?”

 

“Not forever. I don’t know. A few weeks? I’m not moving out or anything, I just need to clear my head. Get away from everything that happened,” Lafayette says. 

“That’s fine, Laf, I get that. But at least stay for breakfast before you go to the airport.” He smiles softly (full smiles are quite rare now. Nobody brings it up.)

Laf shakes his head. “I’ve got to go, mon lapin. Plane departs in two hours.”

“Yeah, well these pancakes will be done in two minutes and I am not letting my impeccable pancake skills go to waste.” 

“Is there chocolate in them?”

“Yeah, and it’s the fancy Belgian shit you had imported, too.”

Lafayette obligingly sits down at the breakfast bar. 

Laf stays in Paris for a month. He skypes John regularly, which is surprisingly hard to do considering time zones exist and both men have shit sleep schedules. But they make it work, and they skype at least once every few days. (“I love it here, mon ami. You should really consider going back to South Carolina for a while, just to see all the familiar sites and everything.” “Yeah, nope, I think I’m good.”)

John tries to stay in solitude while Lafayette is away, but it’s to no avail. Burr visits him once a day to check up on him and make sure he’s okay. John wonders if that’s code for “making sure you haven’t committed suicide”. He remains very tight-lipped about the current situation with Jefferson. John doesn’t know much about that at all, only that there’s some legal steps being taken to fuck Jefferson over for what he did.

“Burr, what’s happening with the case?” John asks one day, completely out of the blue.

Burr looks shocked for a moment. “Are you…?”

“Yes, I’m sure I want to know. Please just tell me. Don’t worry about it.” He laughs a cold kind of laughter and looks down. “I mean, it’s not like anything could make me much worse than I already am, so you might as well just tell me.”

Burr nods, but he still looks cautious. Perhaps he’s wondering if John will kill himself over this. But eventually he breaks. “Jefferson’s being tried for murder and a bunch of other shit, I don’t really care tp get into the exact technicalities. It’s… it’s a pretty big deal. Everyone’s tuning into it. The media is flipping its shit, believe you me. We - I mean, Washington and I weren’t sure if we should tell you not to leave your apartment for a while. We don’t want the media to descend on you like magpies.”

John takes it in. “How’s the case going?”

“He plead not guilty, but there’s no way in hell he’s getting off with a verdict like that. Personally, I think it might be death penalty. Him and James, really. The trial’s got to end soon. It’s been going on way too long.”

Burr’s right. It ends in death penalty.

 

A week after he’s arrived in France, Lafayette starts to tell John about some girl he’s met. Adrienne, her name is. Her family is rich like Laf’s, making the two families pretty close, so it was only a matter of time before they met. She’s close to Lafayette’s age, only two years his younger. And she’s beautiful. Well, according to the way Lafayette describes her, she is. He sounds enamored. Not to mention the fact that they flirt. A lot. From what John can tell, anyway.

“Do you… like her?” John asks once over Skype.

Laf shakes his head immediately. “No. At least, not yet. Not so soon after what happened.”

John nods. He gets it. He can never imagine loving someone romantically, not after Alex. And even if he does, eventually, definitely not this soon.

Lafayette tells this to Adrienne one day, and she takes it wonderfully. She says she wouldn’t mind just being friends with Laf, even if it’s like that forever. John can tell how much the sentiment means to Laf. 

Even when he comes back to America, he remains in contact with Adrienne. John meets her over Skype one day, and he can see what Lafayette sees in her. Their relationship remains platonic for a good two years, but John can see through the two of them.

Laf admits he loves Adrienne at five thirty in the morning one day, when he and John are out on the balcony of their apartment watching the sun rise. It’s been another sleepless night for both of them, though at least those nights are getting fewer and farther between. He starts crying and John looks over, concerned, when he finally spills the beans.

“I think I’m in love with Adrienne.”

John smiles. “Yeah. I think you are, too.”

“But I’m scared.”

“Yeah.” John nods. “That’s gotta be scary. Laf, this is going to sound really cliche but life is short. I know that you aren’t over… that you aren’t ver Herc. Hell, you might never be. But if you really love Adrienne, tell her. She loves you back, I can tell. And it’s okay to be a little scared that history will repeat itself. I can’t tell you it won’t, but I can tell you that Jefferson is dead and we have people protecting us now.”

Lafayette smiles, really smiles. He calls Adrienne without even responding to John and blurts the words out without any context.

John is the best man at their wedding years later. 

 

And as for John?

He doesn’t fall in love again. And that’s okay. He accepts his life, even if there are days when he contemplates throwing himself into a highway and days when he doesn’t look both ways before crossing the street. He takes long walks through the city a lot, appreciating nature and trying to focus his thoughts.

He finds beauty in delicacy. Looks at the tiny flowers that bloom in March, bringing the first signs of spring with them. Admires the way their stems slouch over a little bit from holding the flower up. And he smiles at them. 

Because they’re brave and resilient, the first flowers to break through winter, and they cling to life as much as they can. John finds strength and beauty and maybe even familiarity in them. 

Maybe he’ll never be “okay” again. 

And maybe that’s okay.

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy.
> 
> sorry this is like,, over a month late. it took a long time to plan and write out and for a while i didnt think it was gonna happen. but it's here, i wrote it and edited it and everything, and its a little bit all over the place. i just finished it up right now to procrastinate my summer homework (i start high school in a few weeks? wild. im a little bit terrified.) 
> 
> anyway as always you can reach me on my tumblr herculesmulliganz or my instagram kayla.k57 for those of you who dont have tumblr.
> 
> im probably gonna go cry and eat some ice cream because this fic is my little baby and i cant believe its finally over. thank you to everyone whos read this and kudos'd and commented and everything i cant thank you all enough. this is getting rambly ok ok im gonna leave i love you


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